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Digitized by the Internet Archive 
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http://www.archive.org/details/rhymesofchildhoo02rile 



RHYMES OF 

CHILDHOOD 



JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY 

5/ 



^ 



INDIANAPOLIS 

THE BOWEN-MERRILL COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS 



J„!brary of Conflr««8 

^v^J Copies Rtctivfo 1 
FEB 1 1901 

. Copyright entry 

N,.>(Xc..^.g.</.X..« 

SECOND COPY 






Copyright, 1890, 1898, 1900, 

By James Whitcomb Riley. 



Braunworth, Munn ©* Barber 

Printers and Binders 

Brooklyn, N. Y. 



TO THE LITTLE NEPHEW 
HENRY EDMUND EITEL 



PREFATORY NOTE 

In presenting herein the child dialect upon an 
equal footing with the proper or more serious 
English, the conscientious author feels it neither 
his desire nor province to offer excuse. 

Wholly simple and artless, Nature's children 
oftentimes seem the more engaging for their very 
defects of speech and general deportment. We 
need worry very little for their futures since the 
All-Kind Mother has them in her keep. 

It is just and good to give the elegantly trained 
and educated child a welcome hearing. It is no 
less just and pleasant to admit his homely but 
wholesome-hearted little brother to our interest 
and love. J. W. R. 



CONTENTS 

RHYMES OF CHILDHOOD 

PAGE 

The Elder of the Knee 2 

A Boy's Mother 219 

A Child's Home — Long Ago 186 

An Impetuous Resolve 178 

A Nonsense Rhyme 167 

A Mother-Song 53 

A Passing Hail 191 

A Prospective Glimpse 161 

A Sleeping Beauty 210 

A Sudden Shower 179 

At Aunty's House 213 

Babe Herrick 120 

Babyhood 105 

Baby's Dying 93 

Billy Could Ride 199 

Billy Goodin' 189 

BuscH AND Tommy 117 

Christine Braibry 78 

Christmas Afterthought 27 

Curly Locks t ... . 163 

Dusk-Song — The Beetle 103 

Envoy 232 

Exceeding All 69 

Grandfather Squeers 124 

Guiney-Pigs 115 

ix 



CONTENTS 

PAGE 

He Called Her In 151 

His Christmas Sled 118 

Honey Dripping from the Comb 198 

In Swimming-Time 220 

In the Night 55 

Jack-in-the-Box 37 

John Tarkington Jameson 113 

Lawyer and Child 68 

Little Girly-Girl 35 

Little Johnts's Chris'mus 141 

Little Mandy's Christmas-Tree 136 

Longfellow's Love for the Children ... 48 

Mabel 33 

Max and Jim 107 

McFeeters' Fourth 133 

Mother Goose , 19 

Naughty Claude 170 

Old Man's Nursery Ehyme 96 

On the Sunny Side 43 

Our Hired Girl 229 

Pansies 13 

Prior to Miss Belle's Appearance .... 193 

She " Displains " It 202 

Song — For November 196 

Some Scattering Remarks of Bub's .... 7 

That-Air Young-Un 88 

The All-Golden 45 

The Boy-Friend 157 

The Boy Lives on our Farm 225 

The Boys 94 

The Boys' Candidate 149 

The Brook-Song 85 

The Bumblebee 150 



s 



CONTENTS 

PAGE 

The Cheistmas Long Ago 30 

The Circus-Day Parade 108 

The Days Gone By 25 

The Dream of the Little Princess .... 70 

The Fishing Party 223 

The Funniest Thing in the World . . . .140 

The Funny Little Fellow 56 

The Happy Little Cripple 20 

The Hunter Boy 181 

The Jolly Miller 204 

The Land of Thus-and-So 121 

The Land of Used-to-Bb 74 

The Little Coat 65 

The Little-Red-Apple Tree 5 

The Little Tiny Kickshaw 129 

The Lugubrious "Whing-Whang 130 

The Man in the Moon 183 

The Nine Little Goblins 62 

The Old Hay-Mow Ill 

The Old, Old Wish" 171 

The Old Tramp 162 

The Orchard Lands op Long Ago 147 

The Pet Coon 165 

The Pixy People 8 

The Prayer Perfect 52 

' The Preacher's Boy " 173 

The Raggedy Man 217 

The Robins' Other Name 28 

The Runaway Boy 227 

The Song of Yesterday . 99 

The Squirt-Gun Uncle Maked Me 83 

The Way the Baby Came 17 

The Way the Baby Slept 203 



XI 



CONTENTS 

PA^E 

The Way THE Baby Woke 132 

The Whitheraways 215 

The Youthful Pkess 87 

Time of Clearer Twitterings 39 

To Hattie — On her Birthday 29 

Tommy Smith 3 

Uncle Sidney 12 

Uncle Sidney's Views .- .59 

Uninterpreted 18 

Waitin' fer the Cat to Die 14 

When Early March Seems Middle May . . 60 

When Our Baby Died 77 

When the World Bu'sts Through 159 

Winter Fancies 49 

With the Current 207 



Sl 



RHYMES OF CHILDHOOD 



THE RIDER OF THE KNEE 

Knightly Rider of the Knee 
Of Proud pra7icing Ufide7y ! 
Gaily moujit, and wave the sign 
Of that 7naste7y of thijie. 

Pat thy steed a7id tur7i hitnfree, 
Knightly Rider of the Kneel 
Sit thy charger as a thro7ie — 
Lash hi7n with thy laugh alone: 

Sting hi77i only with the spur 
Of such wit as may occur ^ 
Kiightly Rider of the Knee, 
In thy shriek of ecstasy. 

Would, as now, we might endure, 
Twai7i as 07ie — thou miniature 
Ruler, at the rein of me — 
Knightly Rider of the Kneel 



TOMMY SMITH 

Dimple-cheeked and rosy-lipped, 
With his cap-rim backward tipped, 
Still in fancy I can see 
Little Tommy smile on me — 

Little Tommy Smith. 

Little unsung Tommy Smith — 
Scarce a name to rhyme it with ; 
Yet most tenderly to me 
Something sings unceasingly — 

Little Tommy Smith. 

On the verge of some far land 
Still forever does he stand. 
With his cap-rim rakishly 
Tilted ; so he smiles on me — ^ 

Little Tommy Smith. 
3 



TOMMY SMITH 

Elder-blooms contrast the grace 
Of the rover's radiant face — 
Whistling back, in mimicry, 
''Old— Bob— White!" all liquidly— 
Little Tommy Smith. 

O my jaunty statuette 
Of first love, I see you yet, 
Though you smile so mistily, 
It is but through tears I see. 

Little Tommy Smith. 

But, w^ith crown tipped back behind, 
And the glad hand of the wind 
Smoothing back your hair, I see 
Heaven's best angel smile on me, — 
Little Tommy Smith. 



THE LITTLE-RED-APPLE TREE 

The Little-red-apple Tree! — 

O the Little-red-apple Tree ! 
When I was the little-est bit of a boy 

And you were a boy with me ! 
The bluebird's flight from the topmost boughs, 

And the boys up there — so high 
That we rocked over the roof of the house 

And whooped as the winds went by ! 

Hey! The Little-red-apple Tree! 

With the garden-beds below, 
And the old grape-arbor so welcomely 

Hiding the rake and hoe ! 
Hiding, too, as the sun dripped through 

In spatters of wasted gold, 
Frank and Amy away from you 

And me in the days of old ! 

5 



THE LITTLE-RED-APPLE TREE 

The Little-red-apple Tree ! — . 

In the edge of the garden-spot, 
Where the apples fell so lavishly 

Into the neighbor's lot ; — 
So do I think of you alway, 

Brother of mine, as the tree, — 
Giving the ripest wealth of your love 

To the world as well as me. 

Ho ! The Little-red-apple Tree ! 

Sweet as its juiciest fruit 
Spanged on the palate spicily. 

And rolled o'er the tongue to boot, 
Is the memory still and the joy 

Of the Little-red-apple Tree, 
When I was the little-est bit of a boy 

And you were a boy with me ! 



SOME SCATTERING REMARKS 
OF BUB'S 

WuNST I took our pepper-box lid 
An' cut little pie-dough biscuits, I did, 
An' cooked 'em on our stove one day 
When our hired girl she said I may. 

Honey's the goodest thing — Oo-ooh I 
An' blackburry-pies is goodest, too! 
But wite hot biscuits, ist soakin' wet 
Wiv tree-mullasus, is goodest yet! 

Miss Maimie she's my Ma's friend, — an' 
She's purtiest girl in all the Ian' ! — 
An' sweetest smile an' voice an' face — 
An' eyes ist looks like p' serves tas'e' ! 

I ruther go to the Circus-show ; 
But, 'cause vnj par tints told me so, 
I ruther go to the Sund'y School, 
'Cause there I learn the goldun rule. 

Say, Pa, — what is the goldun rule 
'At's alius at the Sund'y School? 

r 



THE PIXY PEOPLE 

It was just a very 

Merry fairy dream ! — 
All the woods were airy 

With the gloom and gleam ; 
Crickets in the clover 

Clattered clear and strong, 
And the bees droned over 

Their old honey-song ! 

In the mossy passes, 
Saucy grasshoppers 

Leaped about the grasses 
And the thistle-burs ; 

And the whispered chuckle 
Of the katydid 

Shook the honeysuckle- 
Blossoms where he hid. 
8 



THE PIXY PEOPLE 

Through the breezy mazes 

Of the lazy June, 
Drowsy with the hazes 

Of the dreamy noon, 
Little Pixy people 

Winged above the walk, 
Pouring from the steeple 

Of a mullein-stalk. 

One — a gallant fellow— 

Evidently King, — 
Wore a plume of yellow 

In a jewelled ring 
On a pansy bonnet, 

Gold and white and blue, 
With the dew still on it. 

And the fragrance, too. 

One — a dainty lady, — 
Evidently Queen — 

Wore a gown of shady 
Moonshine and green, 



THE PIXY PEOPLE 

With a lace of gleaming 

Starlight that sent 
All the dewdrops dreaming 

Everywhere she went. 

One wore a waistcoat 

Of rose-leaves, out and in ; 
And one wore a faced-coat 

Of tiger-lily-skin ; 
And one wore a neat coat 

Of palest galingale ; 
And one a tiny street-coat, 

And one a swallow-tail. 

And Ho ! sang the King of them, 

And Hey ! sang the Queen ; 
And round and round the ring of them 

Went dancing o'er the green; 
And Hey ! sang the Queen of them, 

And Ho ! sang the King — 
And all that I had seen of them 

— Wasn't anything! 



10 



THE PIXY PEOPLE 

It was just a very 

Merry fairy dream ! — 
All the woods were airy 

With the gloom and gleam; 
Crickets in the clover 

Clattered clear and strong, 
And the bees droned over 

Their old honey-song! 



II 



UNCLE SIDNEY 

Sometimes, when I bin bad, 
An' Pa " currecks " me nen, 

An' Uncle Sidney he comes here, 
I'm alius good again ; 

'Cause Uncle Sidney says, 

An' takes me up an' smiles, — 

The goodest 7iiens they is airCt good 
As baddest little childsl 



la 



PANSIES 

Pansies! Pansies! How I love you, pansies! 

Jaunty-faced, laughing-lipped and dewy-eyed 

with glee; 

Would my song but blossom in little five-leaf 

stanzas 

As delicate in fancies 

As your beauty is to me ! 

But my eyes shall smile on you, and my hands in- 
fold you. 
Pet, caress, and lift you to the lips that love 
you so. 

That, shut ever in the years that may mildew or 

mould you. 

My fancy shall behold you 

Fair as in the long ago. 



IS 



WAITIN' FER THE CAT TO DIE 

Lawzy! don't I rickollect 

That-air old swing in the lane! 

Right and proper, I expect, 

Old times can't come back again; 

But I want to state, ef they 

Could come back, and I could say 

What my pick'ud be, i jing! 

I'd say. Gimme the old swing 

'Nunder the old locus'-trees 

On the old place, ef you please! — 

Danglin' there with half-shet eye, 

Waitin' fer the cat to die ! 

I'd say, Gimme the old gang 

O' barefooted, hungry, lean, 
Omry boys you want to hang 

When you're growed up twic't as mean I 



WAITIN FER THE CAT TO DIE 

The old gyarden-patch, the old 
Truants, and the stuff we stol'd! 
The old stompin'-groun', where we 
Wore the grass off, wild and free 
As the swoop o' the old swing. 
Where we ust to climb and cling, 
And twist roun', and fight, and lie — 
Waitin' fer the cat to die! 

'Pears like I 'most alius could 

Swing the highest of the crowd — 
Jes sail up there tel I stood 

Downside-up, and screech out loud,- 
Ketch my breath, and jes drap back 
Fer to let the old swing slack, 
Yit my towhead dippin' still 
In the green boughs, and the chill 
Up my backbone taperin' down, 
With my shadder on the groun' 
Slow and slower trailin* by — 
Waitin' fer the cat to die ! 



15 



WAITIN PER THE CAT TO DIB 

Now my daughter's little Jane's 

Got a kind o' baby-swing 
On the porch, so's when it rains 

She kin play there — little thing I 
And I'd limped out t'other day 
With my old cheer thisaway, 
Swingin' her and rockin' too, 
Thinkin' how / ust to do 
At her age, when suddently, 
"Hey, Gran'pap!" she says to me, 
** Why you rock so slow?" . . . Says I, 
''Waitin' fer the cat to die I" 



16 



THE WAY THE BABY CAME 

O THIS is the way the baby came : 
Out of the night as comes the dawn ; 

Out of the embers as the flame ; 
Out of the bud the blossom on 

The apple-bough that blooms the same 
As in glad summers dead and gone — 

With a grace and beauty none could name- 

O this is the way the baby came ! 



17 



UNINTERPRETED 

Supinely we lie in the grove's shady greenery, 
Gazing, all dreamy-eyed, up through the trees, — 

And as to the sight is the heavenly scenery. 
So to the hearing the sigh of the breeze. 

We catch but vague rifts of the blue through the 
wavering 

Boughs of the maples; and, like undefined. 
The whispers and lisps of the leaves, faint and 
quavering, 
Meaningless falter and fall on the mind. 

The vine, with its beauty of blossom, goes rioting 
Up by the casement, as sweet to the eye 

As the trill of the robin is restful and quieting 
Heard in a drowse with the dawn in the sky. 

And yet we yearn on to learn more of the mystery — 
We see and we hear, but forever remain 

Mute, blind and deaf to the ultimate history 
Born of a rose or a patter of rain. 
i8 



MOTHER GOOSE 

Dear Mother Goose ! most motherly and dear 
Of all good mothers who have laps wherein 
We children nestle safest from all sin, — 

I cuddle to thy bosom, wdth no fear 

To there confess that though thy cap be queer, 
And thy curls gimlety, and thy cheeks thin, 
And though the winkered mole upon thy chin 

Tickles thy very nose-tip, — still to hear 
The jolly jingles of mine infancy 

Crooned by thee, makes mine eager arms, as now, 
To twine about thy neck, full tenderly 

Drawing the dear old face down, that thy brow 
May dip into my purest kiss, and be 
Crowned ever with the baby-love of me. 



19 



THE HAPPY LITTLE CRIPPLE 

I'm thist a little crippled boy, an' never goin' to 

grow 
An' git a great big man at all ! — 'cause Aunty told 

me so. 
When I was thist a baby onc't I failed out of the 

bed 
An' got " The Curv'ture of the Spine" — 'at's 

what the Doctor said. 
I never had no Mother nen — fer my Pa runned 

away 
An' dassn't come back here no more — 'cause he 

was drunk one day 
An' stobbed a man in thish-ere town, an' couldn't 

pay his fine ! 
An' nen my Ma she died — an' I got "Curv'ture 

of the Spine"! 

ao 



THE HAPPY LITTLE CRIPPLE 

rm nine years old! An' you can't guess how 
much I weigh, I bet! — 

Last birthday I weighed thirty-three ! — An' I weigh 
thirty yet! 

I'm awful little fer my size — I'm purt' nigh lit- 
tler nan 

Some babies is! — an' neighbers all calls me "The 
Little Man"! 

An' Doc one time he laughed an' said : "I 'spect, 
first think you know, 

You'll have a little spike-tail coat an' travel with 
a show!" 

An' nen I laughed — ^till I looked round an' Aunty 
was a-cryin' — 

Sometimes she acts like that, 'cause I got "Curva- 
ture of the Spine" ! 

I set — while Aunty's washin' — on my little long- 
leg stool, 

An' watch the little boys an' girls a-skippin' by 
to school; 

An' I peck on. the winder, an' holler out an' say: 

"Who wants to fight The Little Man 'at dares you 
all to-day?" 

21 



THE HAPPY LITTLE CRIPPLE 

An' nen the boys climbs on the fence, an' little 

girls peeks through, 
An' they all says: "'Cause you're so big, you 

think we're 'feard o' you!" 
An' nen they yell, an' shake their fist at me, like 

I shake mine — 
They're thist in fun, you know, 'cause I got 

"Curv'ture of the Spine" ! 

At evening, when the ironin's done, an' Aunty's 

fixed the fire. 
An' filled an' lit the lamp, an' trimmed the wick 

an' turned it higher, 
An' fetched the wood all in fer night, an' locked 

the kitchen door, 
An' stuffed the old crack where the wind blows in 

up through the floor — 
She sets the kittle on the coals, an' biles an' makes 

the tea. 
An'* fries the liver an' the mush, an' cooks a egg 

fer me ; 
An' sometimes — when I cough so hard — her elder- 
berry wine 
Don't go so bad fer little boys with "Curv'ture of 

the Spine"! 

22 



tHE HAPPY LITTLE CRIPPLE 

An' nen when she putts me to bed — an' 'fore she 

does she's got 
My blanket-nighty, 'at she maked, all good an' 

warm an' hot, 
Hunged on the rocker by the fire, — she sings me 

hymns, an' tells 
Me 'bout The Good Man — ^yes, an' Elves, an' 

Old Enchanter spells ; 
An' tells me more — an' more — an' more! — tel I'm 

asleep^ purt' nigh — 
Only I thist set up ag'in an' kiss her when she ciy, 
A-tellin' on 'bout some boy's Angel-mother — an' 

it's mine! 
My Ma's a Angel— hut I'm got "The Curv'ture 

of the Spine" ! 

But Aunty's all so childish-like on my account, 

you see, 
I'm 'most afeared she'll be took down — an' 'at's 

what bothers met — 
'Cause ef my good old Aunty ever would git sick 

an' die, 



23 



THE HAPPY LITTLE CRIPPLE • 

I don't know what she'd do in Heaven — till / 

come, by an' by: — 
Fer she's so ust to all my ways, an' ever'thing, 

you know. 
An' no one there like me, to nurse an' worry over 

so! — 
'Cause all the little childerns there's so straight an' 

strong an' fine, 
They's nary angel 'bout the place with " Curv'- 

ture of the Spine" ! 

Note. — The word " thist," as used in foregoing lines, 
is an occasional childish pronunciation evolved from the 
word "just" — a word which in child vernacular has mani- 
fold supplanters, — such as "jus," "jes," "des," "jis," 
"dis," ''jist," " dist," "ist," and even "gist," with hard g. 
In " thist," as above, sound " th " as in the word " the." 



24 



THE DAYS GONE BY 

O THE days gone by! O the days gone by! 
The apples in the orchard, and the pathway through 

the rye ; 
The chirrup of the robin, and the whistle of the 

quail 
As he piped across the meadows sweet as any 

nightingale ; 
When the bloom was on the clover, and the blue 

was in the sky, 
And my happy heart brimmed over, in the days 

gone by. 

In the days gone by, when my naked feet were 

tripped 
By the honeysuckle tangles where the water-lilies 

dipped, 

25 



THE DAYS GONE BY 

And the ripples of the river lipped the moss along 

the brink 
Where the placid-eyed and lazy-footed cattle came 

to drink, 
And the tilting snipe stood fearless of the truant's 

wayward cry 
And the splashing of the swimmer, in the days 

gone by. 

O the days gone by ! O the days gone by ! 

The music of the laughing lip, the lustre of the eye ; 

The childish faith in fairies, and Aladdin's magic 
ring— 

The simple, soul-reposing, glad belief in every- 
thing,— 

When life was like a story holding neither sob nor 
sigh. 

In the golden olden glory of the days gone by. 



26 



CHRISTMAS AFTERTHOUGHT 

After a thoughtful, almost painful pause, 
Bub sighed, "I'm sorry fer old Santy Claus. 
They wuz no Santy Claus, ner couldn't be, 
When he wuz ist a little boy like me!" 



27 



THE ROBINS' OTHER NAME 

In the Orchard-Days, when you 

Children look like blossoms, too ; 

Bessie, with her jaunty ways 

And trim poise of head and face, 

Must have looked superior 

Even to the blossoms, — for 

Little Winnie once averred 

Bessie looked just like the bird 

Tilted on the topmost spray 

Of the apple-boughs in May, 

With the red breast, and the strong, 

Clear, sweet warble of his song.— 

"I don't know their name,*^ Win said- 

"I ist 7naked a name instead.'' — 

So forever afterwards 

We called robins "Bessie-birds." 



28 



TO HATTIE—ON HER BIRTHDAY 

Written in '-'-A Child's Garden of Verses'^ 

When your "Uncle Jim" was younger, 
In the days of childish hunger 
For the honey of such verses 
As this little book rehearses 

In such sweet simplicity, — 
Just the simple gift that this is 
V/ould have brimmed his heart with blisses 
Sweet as Hattie's sweetest kisses, 

On her anniversary. 



29 



THE CHRISTMAS LONG AGO 

Come, sing a hale Heigh-ho 
For the Christmas long ago! — 
When the old log-cabin homed us 

From the night of blinding snow, 
When the rarest joy held reign, 
And the chimney roared amain, 
With the firelight like a beacon 

Through the frosty window-pane. 

Ahi the revel and the din 
From without and from within. 
The blend of distant sleigh-bells 
With the pi inking violin ; 
The muffled shrieks and cries — 
Then the glowing cheeks and eyes — 
The driving storm of greetings, 
Gusts of kisses and surprise. 
30 



THE CHRISTMAS LONG AGO 

Sing — sweetest of all glees — 
Of the taffy-makers, please, — 
And, round the saucers in the snow, 
The children thick as bees ; 
And sing each chubby cheek, 
Chin and laughing lip astreak 
With still a sweeter sweetness than 
The tongue of Song can speak. 

Sing in again the mirth 
Of the circle round the hearth, 
With the rustic Sindbad telling us 
The strangest tales on earth ! 
And the Minstrel Bard we knew, 
With his " Love-i-er so True,'* 
Likewise his "Young House-K-yarpen-Z^r," 
And "Loved Henry," too! 

And, forgetting ne'er a thing, 

Lift a gladder voice and sing 

Of the dancers in the kitchen — 

Clean from.start to "pigeon-wing"! 
Sing the glory and the glee 
And the joy and jubilee, — 

31 



THE CHRISTMAS LONG AGO 

The twirling form — the quickened breath- 
The sigh of ecstasy. — 

The eyes that smile alone 
Back into our happy own — 
The leaping pulse — the laughing blood — 
The trembling undertone ! — 
Ho ! pair us off once more, 
With our feet upon the floor 
And our heads and hearts in heaven, 
As they were in days of yore ! 



32 



MABEL 

Sweet little face, so full of slumber now — 

Sweet lips uplifted now with any kiss — 
Sweet dimpled cheek and chin, and snowy brow, — 
What quietude is this ? 

O speak! Have you forgotten, yesterday. 

How gladly you came running to the gate 
To meet us in the old familiar way, 
So joyous — so elate — 

So filled with wildest glee, yet so serene 

With innocence of song and childish chat, 
With all the dear caresses in between — 
Have you forgotten that? 

Have you forgotten, knowing gentler charms, 
The boisterous love of one you ran to greet 
When you last met, who caught you in his arms 

And kissed you, in the street? 

3 33 



MABEL 

Not very many days have passed since then, 

And yet between that kiss and him there lies 
No pathw^ay of return — unless again, 
In streets of Paradise, 

Your eager feet come twinkling down the gold 

Of some bright thoroughfare ethereal, 
To meet and greet him there just as of old. — 
Till then, farewell — farewell. 



34 



LITTLE GIRLY-GIRL 

Little Girly-Girl, of you 

Still forever I am dreaming.- 
Laughing eyes of limpid blue — 

Tresses glimmering and gleaming 
Like glad waters running over 
Shelving shallows, rimmed with clover, 

Trembling where the eddies whirl, 

Gurgling, "Little Girly-Girl !'' 

For your name it came to me 

Down the brink of brooks that brought it 
Out of Paradise — and we — 

Love and I — we, leaning, caught it 
From the ripples romping nigh us, 
And the bubbles bumping by us 

Over shoals of pebbled pearl, 

Lilting, "Little Girly-Girl!'' 

35 



LITTLE GIRLY-GIRL 

That was long and long ago, 
But in memory the tender 

Winds of summer weather blow, 
And the roses burst in splendor; 

And the meadow's grassy billows 

Break in blossoms round the willows 
Where the currents curve and curl, 
Calling, "Little Girly-Girl!" 



36 



JACK-IN-THE-BOX 

\_Grandfather^ musing"^ 

In childish days! O memory, 

You bring such curious things to me ! — 

Laughs to the lip — tears to the eye, 

In looking on the gifts that lie 

Like broken playthings scattered o'er 

Imagination's nursery floor! 

Did these old hands once click the key 

That let "Jack's" box-lid upward fly, 

And that blear-eyed, fur-whiskered elf 

Leap, as though frightened at himself, 

And quiveringly lean and stare 

At me, his jailer, laughing there? 

A child then ! Now — I only know 
They call me very old ; and so 
They will not let me have my way, — 
But uselessly I sit all day 
37 



JACK-IN-THE-BOX 

Here by the chimney-jamb, and poke 
The lazy fire, and smoke and smoke, 
And watch the wreaths swoop up the flue, 
And chuckle — ay, I often do — 
Seeing again, all vividly, 
Jack-in-the-box leap, as in glee 
To see how much he looks like me ! 

. . . They talk. I can't hear what they say- 
But I am glad, clean through and through 
Sometimes, in fancying that they 
Are saying, "Sweet, that fancy strays 
In age back to our childish days!'* 



38 



TIME OF CLEARER TWITTERINGS 



Time of crisp and tawny leaves, 
And of tarnished harvest sheaves, 
And of dusty grasses — weeds — 
Thistles, with their tufted seeds 
Voyaging the Autumn breeze 
Like as fairy argosies : 
Time of quicker flash of wings, 
And of clearer twitterings 
In the grove or deeper shade 
Of the tangled everglade, — 
Where the spotted water-snake 
Coils him in the sunniest brake; 
And the bittern, as in fright. 
Darts, in sudden, slanting flight. 
Southward, while the startled crane 
Films his eyes in dreams again. 

39 



TIME OF CLEARER TWITTERINGS 
II 

Down along the dwindled creek 
We go loitering. We speak 
Only with old questionings 
Of the dear remembered things 
Of the days of long ago, 
When the stream seemed thus and so 
In our boyish eyes: — The bank 
Greener then, through rank on rank 
Of the mottled sycamores. 
Touching tops across the shores: 
Here, the hazel thicket stood — 
There, the almost pathless wood 
Where the shellbark hickoiy-tree 
Rained its wealth on you and me. 
Autumn ! as you loved us then, 
Take us to your heart again ! 

Ill 

Season halest of the year! 
How the zestful atmosphere 
Nettles blood and brain and smites 
Into life the old delights 
40 



TIME OF CLEARER TWITTERINGS 

We have wasted in our youth, 
And our graver years, forsooth! 
How again the boyish heart 
Leaps to see the chipmunk start 
From the brush and sleek the sun's 
Very beauty, as he runs ! 
How again a subtle hint 
Of crushed pennyroyal or mint 
Sends us on our knees, as when 
We were truant boys of ten — 
Brown marauders of the wood, 
Merrier than Robin Hood ! 

IV 

Ah ! will any minstrel say, 
In his sweetest roundelay, 
What is sweeter, after all, • 

Than black haws, in early Fall? — 
Fruit so sweet the frost first sat, 
Dainty-toothed, and nibbled at I 
And will any poet sing 
Of a lusher, richer thing 



41 



TIME OF CLEARER TWITTERINGS 

Than a ripe May-apple, rolled 
Like a pulpy lump of gold 
Under thumb and finger-tips, 
And poured molten through the lips ? 
Go, ye bards of classic themes, 
Pipe your songs by classic streams ! 
I would twang the redbird's wings 
In the thicket while he sings ! 



42 



ON THE SUNNY SIDE 

Hi and whoop-hooray, boys! 

Sing a song of cheer! 
Here's a holiday, boys, 

Lasting half a year! 
Round the world, and half is 

Shadow we have tried ; 
Now we're where the laugh is,- 

On the sunny side ! 

Pigeons coo and mutter. 

Strutting high aloof 
Where the sunbeams flutter 

Through the stable roof. 
Hear the chickens cheep, boys, 

And the hen with pride 
Clucking them to sleep, boys, 

On the sunny side ! 

Hear the clacking guinea ; 

Hear the cattle moo ; 
Hear the horses whinny. 

Looking out at you ! 
43 



ON THE SUNNY SIDE 

On the hitching-block, boys, 

Grandly satisfied, 
See the old peacock, boys. 

On the sunny side ! 

Robins in the peach-tree ; 

Bluebirds in the pear; 
Blossoms over each tree 

In the orchard there ! 
All the world's in joy, boys. 

Glad and glorified 
As a romping boy, boys, 

On the sunny side I 

Where's a heart as mellow — 

Where's a soul as free — 
Where is any fellow 

We would rather be? 
Just ourselves or none, boys. 

World around and wide, 
Laughing in the sun, boys, 

On the sunny side I 



44 



THE ALL-GOLDEN 



Through every happy line I sing 
I feel the tonic of the Spring. 
The day is like an old-time face 
That gleams across some grassy place- 
An old-time face — an old-time chum 
Who rises from the grave to come 
And lure me back along the ways 
Of time's all-golden yesterdays. 
Sweet day ! to thus remind me of 
The truant boy I used to love — 
To set, once more, his finger-tips 
Against the blossom of his lips, 
And pipe for me the signal known 
By none but him and me alone ! 
45 



THE ALL-GOLDEN 
II 

I see, across the school-room floor, 

The shadow of the open door, 

And dancing dust and sunshine blent 

Slanting the way the morning went, 

And beckoning my thoughts afar 

Where reeds and running waters are; 

Where amber-colored bayous glass 

The half-drown'd weeds and wisps of grass. 

Where sprawling frogs, in loveless key, 

Sing on and on incessantly. 

Against the green wood's dim expanse 

The cattail tilts its tufted lance. 

While on its tip — one might declare 

The white "snake-feeder" blossomed there! 

Ill 

I catch my breath as children do 
In woodland swings when life is new, 
And all the blood is warm as wine 
And tingles with a tang divine. 
My soul soars up the atmosphere 
And sings aloud where God can hear, 

46 



THE ALL-GOLDEN 

And all my being leans intent 
To mark His smiling wonderment. 
O gracious dream, and gracious time, 
And gracious theme, and gracious rhyme- 
When buds of Spring begin to blow 
In blossoms that we used to know 
And lure us back along the ways 
Of time's all-golden yesterdays! 



47 



LONGFELLOW'S LOVE FOR THE 
CHILDREN 

Awake, he loved their voices, 
And wove them into his rhyme ; 

And the music of their laughter 
Was with him all the time. 

Though he knew the tongues of nations, 
And their meanings all were dear, 

The prattle and lisp of a little child 
Was the sweetest for him to hear. 



48 



WINTER FANCIES 



Winter without 

And warmth within ; 
The winds may shout 

And the storm begin ; 
The snows may pack 

At the window-pane, 
And the skies grow black, 

And the sun remain 
Hidden away 

The livelong day — 
But here — in here is the warmth of May ! 

II 

Swoop your spitefuUest 
Up the flue, 
Wild Winds— do! 
What in the world do I care for you? 
4 49 



WINTER FANCIES 

O delightfullest 

Weather of all, 
Howl and squall, 
And shake the trees till the last leaves fall ! 

Ill 

The joy one feels, 

In an easy-chair, 
Cocking his heels 

In the dancing air 
That wreaths the rim of a roaring stove 
Whose heat loves better than hearts can love. 
Will not permit 

The coldest day 
To drive away 
The fire in his blood, and the bliss of it! 

IV 

Then blow. Winds, blow! 

And rave and shriek, 
And snarl and snow, 

Till your breath grows weak — 



SO 



WINTER FANCIES 

While here in my room 
I'm as snugly shut 

As a glad little worm 

In the heart of a nut ! 



51 



THE PRAYER PERFECT 

Dear Lord ! kind Lord ! 

Gracious Lord ! I pray 
Thou wilt look on all I love, 

Tenderly to-day ! 
Weed their hearts of weariness ; 

Scatter every care 
Down a wake of angel-wings 

Winnowing the air. 

Bring unto the sorrowing 

All release from pain; 
Let the lips of laughter 

Overflow again; 
And with all the needy 

O divide, I pray, 
This vast treasure of content 

That is mine to-day ! 



52 



A MOTHER-SONG 

Mother, O mother! forever I cry for you, 
Sing the old song I may never forget ; 

Even in slumber I murmur and sigh for you. — 
Mother, O Mother, 

Sing low, " Little brother, 

Sleep, for thy mother bends over thee yet!*' 



Mother, O mother! the years are so lonely, 
Filled but with weariness, doubt and regret! 

Can't you come back to me — for to-night only, 
Mother, my mother. 

And sing, "Little brother, 

Sleep, for thy mother bends over thee yet!" 

Mother, O mother ! of old I had never 

One wish denied me, nor trouble to fret; 
Now — must I cry out all vainly forever, — 
Mother, sweet mother, 

O sing, "Little brother, 
Sleep, for thy mother bends over thee yetl" 
53 



A MOTHER-SONG 

Mother, O mother! must longing and sorrow 
Leave me in darkness, with eyes ever wet. 

And never the hope of a meeting to-morrow ? 
Answer me, mother. 

And sing, "Little brother, 

Sleep, for thy mother bends over thee yet!" 



54 



IN THE NIGHT 

When it's night, and no light, too, 

Wakin' byyourse'f, 
With the old clock mockin' you 

On the mantel-she'f ; 
In the dark — so still and black, 

You're afeard you'll hear 
Somepin' awful pop and crack, — 

''Go to sleep, my dear!" 

That's what Mother says. — And theri's 

When we ain't afeard I 
Wunder, when we be big mens. 

Then 'ul we be skeerd ? — 
Some night Mother's goned away, 

And ist us is here, 
Will The Good Man wake and say, 

''Go to sleep, my dear" ? 



55 



THE FUNNY LITTLE FELLOW 

'TwAS a Funny Little Fellow 

Of the very purest type, 
For he had a heart as mellow 

As an apple overripe ; 
And the brightest little twinkle 

When a funny thing occurred. 
And the lightest little tinkle 

Of a laugh you ever heard ! 

His smile was like the glitter 

Of the sun in tropic lands, 
And his talk a sweeter twitter, 

Than the sv/allow understands ; 
Hear him sing — and tell a story — 

Snap a joke — ignite a pun, — 
'Twas a capture — rapture — glory. 

And explosion — all in one ! 

56 



THE FUNNY LITTLE FELLOW 

Though he hadn't any money — 

That condiment which tends 
To make a fellow "honey" 

For the palate of his friends ; — 
Sweet simples he compounded — 

Sovereign antidotes for sin 
Or taint, — a faith unbounded 

That his friends were genuine. 

He'wasn't honored, maybe — 

For his songs of praise were slim,- 
Yet I never knew a baby 

That wouldn't crow for him ; 
I never knew a mother 

But urged a kindly claim 
Upon him as a brother, 

At the mention of his name. 

The sick have ceased their sighing, 
And have even found the grace 

Of a smile when they were dying 
As they looked upon his face ; 



57 



THE FUNNY LITTLE FELLOW 

And I've seen his eyes of laughter 
Melt in tears that only ran 

As though, swift-dancing after, 
Came the Funny Little Man. 

He laughed away the sorrow 

And he laughed away the gloom 
We are all so prone to borrow 

From the darkness of the tomb ; 
And he laughed across the ocean 

Of a happy life, and passed, 
With a laugh of glad emotion, 

Into Paradise at last. 

And I think the Angels knew him, 

And had gathered to await 
His coming, and run to him 

Through the widely opened Gate, 
With their faces gleaming sunny 

For his laughter-loving sake, 
And thinking, "What a funny 

Little Angel he will make ! ' ' 



58 



UNCLE SIDNEY'S VIEWS 

I HOLD that the true age of wisdom is when 
We are boys and girls, and not women and men, — 
When as credulous children we know things because 
We believe them — however averse to the laws. 
It is faith ^ then, not science and reason, I say. 
That is genuine wisdom. — And would that to-day 
We, as then, were as wise and ineffably blest 
As to live, love and die, and trust God for the rest! 

So I simply deny the old notion, you know, 
That the wiser we get as the older we grow ! — 
For in youth all we know we are certai^t of. — Now 
The greater our knowledge, the more we allow 
For sceptical margin. — And hence I regret 
That the world isn't flat, and the sun doesn't set. 
And we may not go creeping up home, when we 

die, 
Through the moon, like a round yellow hole in the 

sky. 



59 



WHEN EARLY MARCH SEEMS MIDDLE 
MAY 

When country roads begin to thaw 
In mottled spots of damp and dust, 

And fences by the margin draw- 
Along the frosty crust 
Their graphic silhouettes, I say, 
The Spring is coming round this way. 

When morning-time is bright with sun 
And keen with wind, and both confuse 

The dancing, glancing eyes of one 
With tears that ooze and ooze — 
And nose-tips weep as well as they. 
The Spring is coming round this way. 

When suddenly some shadow-bird 
Goes wavering beneath the gaze. 
And through the hedge the moan is heard 
Of kine that fain would graze 
In grasses new, I smile and say. 
The Spring is coming round this way. 
60 



WHEN EARLY MARCH SEEMS MIDDLE MAY 

When knotted horse-tails are untied, 
And teamsters whistle here and there, 

And clumsy mitts are laid aside 

And choppers' hands are bare, 
And chips are thick where children play, 
The Spring is coming round this way. 

When through the twigs the farmer tramps, 
And troughs are chunked beneath the trees, 

And fragrant hints of sugar-camps 
Astray in every breeze, — 
When early March seems middle May, 
The Spring is coming round this way. 

When coughs are changed to laughs, and when 
Our frowns melt into smiles of glee. 

And all our blood thaws out again 
In streams of ecstasy. 
And poets wreak their roundelay. 
The Spring is coming round this way. 



6i 



THE NINE LITTLE GOBLINS 

They all climbed up on a high board-fence — 
Nine little goblins, with green-glass eyes — 
Nine little goblins that had no sense, 

And couldn't tell coppers from cold mince-pies ; 
And they all climbed up on the fence, and sat — 
And I asked them what they were staring at. 

And the first one said, as he scratched his head 

With a queer little arm that reached out of his ear 
And rasped its claws in his hair so red — 
''This is what thjs little arm is fer!" 

And he scratched and stared, and the next one 

said, 
"How on esiYthdo you scratch your head?'* 

And he laughed like the screech of a rusty hinge — 
Laughed and laughed till his face grew.black ; 

And when he choked, with a final twing% 
Of his stifling laughter, he thumped his back 
62 



THE NINE LITTLE GOBLINS 

With a fist that grew on the end of his tail 
Till the breath came back to his lips so pale. 

And the third little goblin leered round at me — 

And there were no lids on his eyes at all, — 
And he clucked one eye, and he says, says he, 
" What is the style of your socks this fall?" 
And he clapped his heels — and I sighed to see 
That he had hands where his feet should be. 

Then a bald-faced goblin, gray and grim, 

Bowed his head, and I saw him slip 
His eyebrows off, as I looked at him, 
And paste them over his upper lip ; 

And then he moaned in remorseful pain — 
"Would — Ah, would I'd me brows again!" 

And then the whole of the goblin band 
Rocked on the fence-top to and fro, 
And clung, in a long row, hand in hand, 
Singing the songs that they used to know — 
Singing the songs that their grandsires sung 
In the goo-goo days of the goblin-tongue. 



63 



THE NINE LITTLE GOBLINS 

And ever they kept their green-glass eyes 

Fixed on me with a stony stare — 
Till my own grew glazed with a dread surmise, 
And my hat whooped up on my lifted hair, 
And I felt the heart in my breast snap to. 
As you've heard the lid of a snuff-box do. 

And they sang: "You're asleep! There is no 
board-fence, 
And never a goblin with green-glass eyes ! — 
'Tis only a vision the mind invents 
After a supper of cold mince-pies. — 

And you're doomed to dream this way," they 

said, — 
'•'•And you sha'nH wake uf till you're clean 
flum deadV^ 



64 



THE LITTLE COAT 

Here's his ragged "roundabout." . 
Turn the pockets inside out: 
See; his penknife, lost to use, 
Rusted shut with apple-juice; 
Here, with marbles, top and string, 
Is his deadly "devil-sling," 
With its rubber, limp at last 
As the sparrows of the past! 
Beeswax — buckles — leather straps — 
Bullets, and a box of caps, — 
Not a thing of all, I guess, 
But betrays some waywardness — 
E'en these tickets, blue and red, 
For the Bible-verses said — 
Such as this his mem'ry kept, — 

"Jesus wept." 



65 



THE LITTLE COAT 

Here's a fishing-hook and -line, 

Tangled up with wire and twine, 

And dead angleworms, and some 

Slugs of lead and chewing-gum, 

Blent with scents that can but come 

From the oil of rhodium. 

Here — a soiled, yet dainty note. 

That some little sweetheart wrote. 

Dotting — "Vine grows round the stump," 

And — "My sweetest sugar-lump!" 

Wrapped in this — a padlock key 

Where he's filed a touch-hole — see! 

And some powder in a quill 

Corked up with a liver pill ; 

And a spongy little chunk 

Of "punk." 

Here's the little coat — ^but O 
Where is he we've censured so? 
Don't you hear us calling, dear? 
Back! come back, and never fear. — 
You may wander v/here you will, 
Over orchard, field and hill; 



ee 



THE LITTLE COAT 

You may kill the birds, or do 
Anything that pleases you ! 
Ah, this empty coat of his! 
Every tatter worth a kiss ; 
Every stain as pure instead 
As the white stars overhead : 
And the pockets — homes were they 
Of the little hands that play 
Now no more — ^but, absent, thus 
Beckon us. 



67 



LAWYER AND CHILD 

How large was Alexander, father, 

That parties designate 
The historic gentleman as rather 

Inordinately great? 

Why, son, to speak with conscientious 

Regard for history, 
Waiving all claims, of course, to heights 
pretentious, — 

About the size of me. 



68 



EXCEEDING ALL 

Long life's a lovely thing to know, 

With lovely health and wealth, forsooth, 
And lovely name and fame — But O 

The loveliness of Youth I 



69 



THE DREAM OF THE LITTLE 
PRINCESS 

'TwAS a curious dream, good sooth! — 
The dream of The Little Princess; 

It seemed a dream, yet a truth, 

Long years ago in her youth. — 
It came as a dream — no less 
It was not a dream, she says. 

(She is singing and saying things 

Musical as the wile 
Of the eerie quaverings 
That drip from the grieved strings 

Of her lute. — ^We weep or smile 

Even as she, meanwhile.) 



70 



In a day, long dead and gone, 

When her castle-tuiTets threw 

Their long, sharp shadows on 

The sward like lances, — wan 
And lone, she strayed into 
Strange grounds where lilies grew. 

There, late in the afternoon, 

As she sate in the terrace shade, 

Rav'ling a half-spun tune 

From a lute like a wee new-moon, — 
High off was a bugle played, 
And a sound as of steeds that neighed. 

And the lute fell from her hands, 

As her eyes raised, half in doubt, 
To the arch of the azure lands 
Where lo ! with the fluttering strands 
Of a rainbow reined about 
His wrist, rode a horseman out. 

And The Little Princess was stirred 
No less at his steeds than him ; — 



71 



THE DREAM OF THE LITTLE PRINCESS 

A jet-black span of them gird 
In advance, he bestrode the third; 

And the troop of them seemed to swim 

The skies as the Seraphim. 

Wingless they were, yet so 

Upborne in their wondrous flight — 

As their master bade them go, 

They dwindled on high ; or lo ! 

They curved from their heavenmost height 
And swooped to her level sight. 

And the eyes of The Little Princess 
Grow O so bright as the chants 

Of the horseman's courtliness, — 

Saluting her low — Ah, yes! 

And lifting a voice that haunts 
Her own song's weird romance. 

For (she sings) at last he swept 

As near to her as the tips 
Of the lilies, that whitely slept, 
As he leaned o'er one and wept 

And touched it with his lips — 

Sweeter than honey-drips! 
72 



THE DREAM OF THE LITTLE PRINCESS 

And she keeps the lily yet- — 

As the horseman bade (she says) 

As he launched, with a wild curvet, 

His steeds toward the far sunset, 
Till gulfed in its gorgeousness 
And lost to The Little Princess: 

But O, my master sweet! 

He is coTuing again I {she sings) 
My Prince of the Cotcrsers fleets 

With his buglers echoings^ 

And the breath of his voice for the wings 
Of th e sandals of h is feet I 



73 



THE LAND OF USED-TO-BE 

And Where's the Land of Used-to-be, does little 
baby wonder? 
Oh, we will clap a magic saddle over "Poppie's'* 
knee 
And ride away around the world, and in and out 
and under 
The whole of all the golden sunny Summer- 
time and see. 

Leisurely and lazy-like we'll jostle on our journey, 
And let the pony bathe his hooves and cool them 
in the dew. 
As he sidles down the shady way, and lags along 
the ferny 
And green, grassy edges of the lane we travel 
through. 

And then we'll canter on to catch the bubble of the 
thistle 
/As it bumps among the butterflies and glimmers 
down the sun, 

74 



THE LAND OF USED-TO-BE 

To leave us laughing, all content to hear the robin 
whistle 
Or guess what Katydid is saying little Katy's 
done. 

And pausing here a minute, where we hear the 
squirrel chuckle 
As he darts from out the underbrush and scam- 
pers up the tree, 
We will gather buds and locust-blossoms, leaves 
and honeysuckle. 
To wreathe around our foreheads, riding into 
Used-to-be ; — 

For here's the very rim of it that we go swinging 
over — 
Don't you hear the Fairy bugles, and the tinkle 
of the bells. 
And see the baby-bumblebees that tumble in the 
clover 
And dangle from the tilted pinks and tipsy pim- 
pernels ? 



75 



THE LAND OF USED-TO-BE 

And don't you see the merry faces of the daffo- 
dillies, 
And the jolly Johnny-jump-ups, and the butter- 
cups a-glee, 
And the low, lolling ripples ring around the water- 
lilies? — 
All greeting us with laughter, to the Land of 
Used-to-be ! 

And here among the blossoms of the blooming 
vines and grasses, 
With a haze forever hanging in the sky forever 
blue, 
And with a breeze from over seas to kiss us as it 
passes. 
We will romp around forever as the airy Elfins 
do! 

For all the elves of earth and air are swarming 
here together — 
The prankish Puck, King Oberon, and Queen 
Titania too ; 
And dear old Mother Goose herself, as sunny as 
the weather. 
Comes dancing down the dewy walks to wel- 
come me and you ! 



76 



WHEN OUR BABY DIED 

When our baby died — 
My Ma she ist cried an' cried ! 
Yes 'n' my Pa he cried, too — 
An' / cried — An' me an' you. — 
An' I 'tended like my doll 
She cried too — An' ever' — all — 
O ist everybody cried 

When our baby died 1 

When our baby died — 
Nan I got to took a ride ! 
An' we all ist rode an' rode 
Clean to Heav'n where baby goed- 
Mighty nigh! — An' nen Ma she 
Cried ag'in — an' Pa — an' me. — 
All but ist the Angels cried 

When our baby died ! 



77 



CHRISTINE BRAIBRY 

THE BEAUTIFUL DOLLY WHO COMES FROM 

TENTOLEENA LAND 

BRINGING A STRANGE LETTER 

The Letter 

This little Dolly's name is Christine Braibry.* 
She was born in Tentoleena Land, where lilies 
and red roses grow in the air, and humming-birds 
and butterflies on stalks. 

You must be kind to Christine, for everything 
about her in your land will be very strange to her. 
If she seems to stare in a bewildered way, and will 
not answer when you ask her why, you must know 
that she is simply dazed with the wonders that she 
sees on every hand. It will doubtless be a long, 
lone while before Christine will cease to marvel at 
the Sunshine of your strange country ; for in Ten- 

* The terminal of this name is sounded short, as in 

" lovely." 

78 



CHRISTINE BRAIBRY 

toleena Land there is never any shine but Moon- 
shine, and sometimes that gets so muddied up with 
shade it soils the eyesight to gaze at it overmuch. 

It will be trying, in your land, for Christine to 
keep silent all the time, for, in your country, Dol- 
lies cannot walk and talk at all perfectly, because 
they only think they are dreaming all the time, 
and they dare not speak for fear their voices will 
awaken them, and they dare not move for fear of 
falling out of bed. So, you see, you should be 
very kind indeed to little Christine Braibry. 

In Tentoleena Land the Dollies do not sleep 
long — they are always the first ones up at Moon- 
dawn — for Moon-dawn is the Dollies' morning. 
Then they go out in the fragrant grasses, where the 
big, ripe dewdrops grow — much nicer, purer dew 
than yours on earth, for in Tentoleena Land they 
gather it before it has been skimmed, and all the 
pearly cream that gathers on the surface of the 
drops they stir up with the rest and bathe in that; 
and this is why the Dollies always have such deli- 
cate complexions. Then, when the baths are over, 
they dress themselves, and waken their parents, 



79 



CHRISTINE BRAIBRY 

and dress them — for in Tentoleena Land the par- 
ents are the children. Is not that odd? 

Sometime Christine may get used to your 
strange land and all the wonders that she sees; 
and if she ever does, and smiles at you, and pulls 
your face down close to hers and kisses you, why, 
that will be the sign by which you'll know she's 
coming to again and wants to talk ; and so the first 
thing you must ask of her is to sing this little song 
she made of Tentoleena Land. Only the words 
of it can be given here — (not half the beauty of the 
dainty song) — for when you hear it, in the marvel- 
lously faint, and low, and sweet, and tender, tink- 
ling tongue of Tentoleena Land, you will indeed 
be glad that the gracious fairy Fortune ever sent 
you Christine Braibry. 

So, since all the sounds In the melodious utter- 
ance of Tentoleena Land are so exquisitely, so 
chastely, rarely beautiful no earthly art may hope 
to reproduce them, you must, as you here read the 
words, just shut your eyes and j^^^cy that you hear 
little Christine Braibry singing this eerie song of 
hers: — 



80 



CHRISTINE'S SONG 

Up in Tentoleena Land — 

Tentoleena ! Tentoleena ! 
All the Dollies, hand in hand, 

Mina, Nainie, and Serena, 
Dance the Fairy fancy dances, 
With glad songs and starry glances, 
Lisping roundelays; and, after, 
Bird-like interludes of laughter 
Strewn and scattered o'er the lawn 
Their gilt sandals twinkle on 
Through light mists of silver sand 

Up in Tentoleena Land. 

Up in Tentoleena Land — 

Tentoleena! Tentoleena! 
Blares the eerie Elfin band — 

Trumpet, harp and concertina- 
Larkspur bugle — honeysuckle 
Cornet, with a quickstep chuckle 
In its golden throat; and, maybe, 
Lilies-of-the-valley they be 
6 8i 



CHRISTINE BRAIBRY 

Baby-silver-bells that chime 
Musically all the time, 
Tossed about from hand to hand — 
Up in Tentoleena Land. 

Up in Tentoleena Land — 

Tentoleena! Tentoleena! 
Dollies dark, and blonde and bland — 

Sweet as musk-rose or verbena — 
Sweet as moon-blown daffodillies, 

Or wave-jostled water-lilies, 
Yearning to'rd the rose-mouths, ready 
Leaning o'er the river's eddy, — 
Dance, and glancing fling to you, 
Through these lines you listen to, 
Kisses blown from lip and hand 

Out of Tentoleena Land ! 



82 



THE SQUIRT-GUN UNCLE MAKED ME 

Uncle Sidney, when he was here, 

Maked me a squirt-gun out o' some 
Elder-bushes 'at growed out near 
Where wuz the brick-yard — 'way out clear 
To where the Toll Gate come ! 

So when we walked back home again, 

He maked it, out in our woodhouse where 
Wuz the old work-bench, an' the old jack-plane. 
An' the old 'poke-shave, an' the tools all lay'n' 
1st like he wants 'em there. 

He sawed it first with the old hand-saw ; 

An' nen he peeled off the bark, an' got 
Some glass an' scraped it ; an' told 'bout Pa, 
When he wuz a boy an' fooled his Ma, 

An' the whippin' 'at he caught. 

S3 



THE SQUIRT-GUN UNCLE MAKED ME 

Nen Uncle Sidney, he took an' filed 

A' old am ramrod; an' one o' the ends 
He screwed fast into the vise ; an' smiled, 
Thinkin', he said, o' when he wuz a child, 
'Fore him an' Pa wuz mens. 

He punched out the peth, an' nen he putt 

A plug in the end with a hole notched through ; 
Nen took the old drawey-knife an' cut 
An' maked a handle 'at shoved clean shut 
But ist where yer hand held to. 

An' he wropt th'uther end with some string an' 
white 
Piece o' the sleeve of a' old tored shirt; 
An' nen he showed me to hold it tight, 
An' suck in the water an' work it right. — 
An' it 'ud ist squirt an' squirt! 



84 



THE BROOK-SONG 

Little brook! Little brook! 
You have such a happy look — 
Such a very merry manner, as you swerve and 
curve and crook — 
And your ripples, one and one, 
Reach each other's hands and run 

Like laughing little children in the sun ! 

Little brook, sing to me : 
Sing about a bumblebee 
That tumbled from a lily-bell and grumbled mum- 
blingly, 
Because he wet the film 
Of his wings, and had to swim, 

While the water-bugs raced round and 
laughed at him ! 

85 



THE BROOK-SONG 

Little brook — sing a song 
Of a leaf that sailed along 
Down the golden-braided centre of your current 
swift and strong, 
And a dragon-fly that lit 
On the tilting rim of it, 

And rode away and wasn't scared a bit. 

And sing — how oft in glee 
Came a truant boy like me, 
Who loved to lean and listen to your lilting melody, 
Till the gurgle and refrain 
Of your music in his brain 

Wrought a happiness as keen to him as 
pain. 

Little brook — laugh and leap ! 
Do not let the dreamer weep : 
Sing him all the songs of summer till he sink in 
softest sleep ; 
And then sing soft and low 
Through his dreams of long ago — 

Sing back to him the rest he used to know ! 



86 



THE YOUTHFUL PRESS. 

Little Georgie Tompers, he 
Printed some fine cards for me ; 
But his press had "J" ior James — 
By no means the choice of names. — 

Yet it's proper, none the less, 
That his little printing-press 
Should be taught th^i James for "J" 
Always is the better way. 

For, if left to its own whim. 
Next time it might call me "Jim,'* — 
Then The Cultured Press would be 
Shocked at such a liberty. 

Therefore, little presses all 

Should be trained, while they are small. 

To develop taste in these 

Truths that shape our destinies. 



87 



THAT-AIR YOUNG-UN 

That- AIR young-un ust to set 
By the crick here day by day, — 
Watch the swallers dip and wet 
Their slim wings and skoot away ; 
Watch these little snipes along 
The low banks tilt up and down 
'Mongst the reeds, and hear the song 
Of the bullfrogs croakin' roun' : 
Ust to set here in the sun 
Watchin' things, and listenun, 
'Peared-like, mostly to the roar 
Of the dam below, er to 
That-air riffle nigh the shore 
Jes acrost from me and you. 
Ust to watch him from the door 
Of the mill. — Ud rigg him out 
With a fishin'-pole and line — 
Dig worms fer him — nigh about 
88 



THAT- AIR YOUNG-UN 

Jes spit on his bait! — but he 
Never keered much, 'pearantly, 
To ketch fish! — He 'druther fine 
Out some sunny place, and set 
Watchin' things, with droopy head, 
And " a-listenun," he said — 
"Kindo' listenun above 
The old crick to what the wet 
Warter was a-talkin' of!" 

Jevver hear sich talk as that? 
Bothered Mother more'n me 
What the child was cipher' n' at. — 
Come home onc't and said 'at he 
Knowed what the snake-feeders thought 
When they grit their wings ; and knowed 
Turkle-talk, when bubbles riz 
Over where the old roots growed 
Where he th'owed them pets o' his — 
Little turripuns he caught 
In the County Ditch and packed 
In his pockets days and days ! — 
Said he know^ed what goslin's quacked — 
Could tell what the killdees sayes, 
89 



THAT-AIR YOUNG-UN 

And grasshoppers, when they lit 
In the crick and "minnies" bit 
Off their legs. — "But, blame V^ says he, 
Sorto' lookin' clean above 
Mother's head and on through me — 
(And them eyes! — I see 'em yet!) — ■ 
'''' Blame r^ he says, "ef I kin see, 
Er make out^ jes what the wet 
Warter is a-talkin' of!" 

Made me nervous I Mother, though. 
Said best not to scold the child — 
The Good Bein' knowed. — And so 
We was only rickonciled 
When he'd be asleep. — And then. 
Time, and time, and time again, 
We've watched over him, you know — 
Her a-sayin' nothin' — ^jes 
Kindo' smoothin' back his hair, 
And, all to herse'f, I guess, 
Studyin' up some kind o' prayer 
She ain't tried yet. — Onc't she said, 
Cotin' Scriptur', " 'He,' " says she, 
In a solemn whisper, " 'He 

Givuth His beloved sleep T " 
90 



THAT-AIR YOUNG-UN 

And jes then I heerd the rain 
Strike the shingles, as I turned 
Res'less to'rds the wall again. 
Pity strong men dast to weep ! — 
Specially when up above 
Thrash I the storm comes down and you 
Feel the midnight plum soaked through 
Heart and soul, and wunder, too, 
What the warter's talkin' of ! 



Found his hat 'way down below 
Hinchman's Ford. — 'Ves' Anders he 
Rid and fetched it. Mother she 
Went wild over that, you know — 
Hugged it! kissed it! — Turrihull 
My hopes then was all gone too. . . . 
Brung him in, v/ith both hands full 
O' warter-lilies — 'peared-like new- 
Bloomed fer him — renched whiter still 
In the clear rain, mixin' fine 
And finer in the noon sunshine. . . . 



9^ 



THAT-AIR YOUNG-UN 

Winders of the old mill looked 
On him where the hill-road crooked 
In on through the open gate. . . . 
Laid him on the old settee 
On the porch there. Heerd the great 
Roarin' dam acrost — -and we 
Heerd a crane cry in amongst 
The sycamores — and then a dove 
Cutterin' on the mill-roof — then 
Heerd the crick, and thought again, 
'-'Now what's it a-talkin' of?" 



92 



BABY'S DYING 

Baby's dying, 

Do not stir — 

Let her spirit lightly float 
Through the sighing 
Lips of her — 

Still the murmur in the throat ; 
Let the moan of grief be cuTbed — 
Baby must not be disturbed! 

Baby's dying, 

Do not stir — 

Let her pure life lightly swim 
Through the sighing 
Lips of her — 

Out from us and up to Him — 
Let her leave us with that smile — 
Kiss and miss her after while. 



93 



THE BOYS 

Where are they? — the friends of my childhood 
enchanted — 
The clear, laughing eyes looking back in my own, 
And the warm, chubby fingers my palms have so 
wanted, 
As when we raced over 

Pink pastures of clover, 
And mocked the quail's whir and the bumblebee's 
drone ? 

Have the breezes of time blown their blossomy 
faces 
Forever adrift down the years that are flown? 
Am I never to see them romp back to their places, 
Where over the meadow, 

In sunshine and shadow. 
The meadow-larks trill, and the bumblebees drone ? 



94 



THE BOYS 

Where are they ? Ah ! dim in the dust lies the 
clover; 
The whippoorwill's call has a sorrowful tone, 
And the dove's — I have wept at it over and over ; — 
I want the glad lustre 

Of youth, and the cluster 
Of faces asleep where the bumblebees drone ! 



95 



OLD MAN'S NURSERY RHYME 



In the jolly winters 

Of the long-ago, 
It was not so cold as now — 

"O! No! No! 
Then, as I remember, 

Snowballs to eat 
Were as good as apples now, 

And every bit as sweet! 



II 



In the jolly winters 
Of the dead-and-gone, 

Bub was warm as summer, 
With his red mitts on, — 

96 



OLD MAN'S NURSERY RHYME 

Just in his little waist- 
And-pants all together, 

Who ever heard him growl 
About cold weather? 



Ill 

In the jolly winters 

Of the long-ago — 
Was it half so cold as now? 

O ! No ! No ! 
Who caught his death o' cold, 

Making prints of men 
Flat-backed in snow that now's 

Twice as cold again? 

IV 

In the jolly winters 

Of the dead-and-gone, 

Startin' out rabbit huntin' — 
Early as the dawn, — 



97 



Who ever froze his fingers, 
Ears, heels, or toes, — 

Or'd 'a' cared if he had? 
Nobody knows ! 

V 

Nights by the kitchen-stove, 

Shellin' v^hite and red 
Corn in the skillet, and 

Sleepin' four abed ! 
Ah ! the jolly v^inters 

Of the long-ago ! 
We were not as old as now- 

01 No! Nol 



98 



THE SONG OF YESTERDAY 

I 
But yesterday 
I looked away 

O'er happy lands, where sunshine lay 
In golden blots 
Inlaid with spots 
Of shade and wild forget-me-nots. 

My head was fair 

With flaxen hair, 

And fragrant breezes, faint and rare, 

And, warm with drouth 

From out the south. 

Blew all my curls across my mouth. 

And, cool and sweet, 

My naked feet 

Found dewy pathways through the wheat ; 

And out again 

Where, down the lane, 

The dust was dimpled with the rain. 

99 



L^iQ, 



THE SONG OF YESTERDAY 



II 



But yesterday! — 

Adream, astray, 

From morning's red to evening's gray, 

O'er dales and hills 

Of da££odills 

And lorn sweet-fluting whippoorwills. 

I knew nor cares 

Nor tears nor prayers — 

A mortal god, crowned unawares 

With sunset — and 

A sceptre-wand 

Of apple blossoms in my hand I 

The dewy blue 

Of twilight grew 

To purple, with a star or two 

Whose lisping rays 

Failed in the blaze 

Of sudden fireflies through the haze. 

lOO 



THE SONG OF YESTERDAY 
III 

But yesterday 

I heard the lay 

O summer birds, when I, as they 

With breast and wing, 

All quivering 

With life and love, could only sing. 

My head was lent 

Where, with it, blent 

A maiden's o'er her instrument; 

While all the night. 

From vale to height, 

Was filled with echoes of delight. 

And all our dreams 

Were lit with gleams 

Of that lost land of reedy streams, 

Along whose brim 

Forever swim 

Pan's lilies, laughing up at him. 



THE SONG OF YKSTERDAT 

IV 

But yesterday ! . . . 

O blooms of May, 

And summer roses — where away? 

O stars above ; 

And lips of love, 

And all the honeyed sweets thereof !- 

O lad and lass, 

And orchard pass, 

And briered lane, and daisied grass! 

O gleam and gloom, 

And woodland bloom. 

And breezy breaths of all perfume !- 

No more for me 

Or mine shall be 

Thy raptures — save in memory, — 

No more — no more — 

Till through the Door 

Of Glory gleam the days of yore. 

I02 



DUSK-SONG— THE BEETLE 

The shrilling locust slowly sheathes 

His dagger-voice, and creeps away 
Beneath the brooding leaves where breathes 

The zephyr of the dying day : 
One naked star has waded through 

The purple shallows of the night, 
And faltering as falls the dew 

It drips its misty light. 

O^er garden blooms^ 

On tides of musk^ 
The beetle booms adown the glooms 

And bumfs along the dusk. 

The katydid is rasping at 

The silence from the tangled broom: 
On drunken wings the flitting bat 

Goes staggering athwart the gloom ; 
103 



DUSK-SONG THE BEETLE 

The toadstool bulges through the weeds, 
And lavishly to left and right 

The fireflies, like golden seeds, 
Are sown about the night. 

O^er slumbrous blooms^ 

On Jloods of 7nusk^ 
The beetle booms adown the glooms 

And bumfs along the dusk. 

The primrose flares its baby-hands 

Wide open, as the empty moon, 
Slow lifted from the underlands, 

Drifts up the azure-arched lagoon ; 
The shadows on the garden walk 

Are frayed with rifts of silver light ; 
And, trickling down the poppy-stalk. 

The dewdrop streaks the night. 

O^ er folded blooms^ 

On swirls of musk, 
The beetle boo7ns adown the glooms 

A?id bumps along the dusk. 



104 



BABYHOOD 

Heigh-ho ! Babyhood ! Tell me where you lin- 
ger! 
Let's toddle home again, for we have gone as- 
tray; 
Take this eager hand of mine and lead me by the 
• finger 
Back to the lotus-lands of the far-away! 

Turn back the leaves of life. — Don't read the 
story. — 

Let's find the pictures, and fancy all the rest; 
We can fill the written pages with a brighter glory 

Than old Time, the story-teller, at his very best. 

Turn to the brook where the honeysuckle tipping 
O'er its vase of perfume spills it on the breeze. 
And the bee and humming-bird in ecstasy are sip- 
ping 

From the fairy-flagons of the blooming locust- 
trees. 



BABYHOOD 

Turn to the lane where we used to "teeter-totter," 
Printing little foot-palms in the mellow mould — 

Laughing at the lazy cattle wading in the water 
Where the ripples dimple round the buttercups 
of gold. 

Where the dusky turtle lies basking on the gravel 
Of the sunny sand-bar in the middle tide, 

And the ghostly dragon-fly pauses in his travel 
To rest like a blossom where the water-lily died. 

Heigh-ho ! Babyhood ! Tell me where you linger I 
Let's toddle home again, for we have gone 
astray ; 
Take this eager hand of mine and lead me by the 
finger 
Back to the lotus-lands of the far-away! 



io6 



MAX AND JIM 

Max an' Jim, 

They're each other's 
Fat an' slim 

Little brothers. 

Max is thin, 

An' Jim, the fac's is. 
Fat ag'in 

As little Max is ! 

Their Pa 'lowed 

He don't know whuther 
He's most proud 

Of one er th' other! 

Their Ma says 

They're both so sweet — 'ml- 
That she guess 

She'll haf to eat 'em! 



THE CIRCUS-DAY PARADE 

Oh! the Circus-Day Parade! How the bugles 
phiyed and played I 

Aud how the glossy horses tossed their flossy manes 
and neighed, 

As the rattle and the rhyme of the tenor-drum- 
mer's time 

Filled all the hungry hearts of us with melody 
sublime ! 

How the grand band-wagon shone with a splendor 

all its own, 
And glittered with a glory that our dreams had 

never known ! 
And how the boys behind, high and low of every 

kind, 
Marched in unconscious capture, with a rapture 

undefined ! 



io8 



\ 



THE CIRCUS-DAY PARADK 

How the horsemen, two and two, with their plumes 

of white and blue 
And crimson, gold and purple, nodding by at me 

and you, 
Waved the banners that they bore, as the knights 

in days of yore, 
Till our glad eyes gleamed and glistened like the 

spangles that they wore ! 

How the graceless-graceful stride of the elephant 

was eyed, 
And the capers of the little horse that cantered at 

his side ! 
How the shambling camels, tame to the plaudits 

of their fame. 
With listless eyes came silent, masticating as they 

came. 

How the cages jolted past, with each wagon bat- 
tened fast, 

And the mystery within it only hinted of at last 

From the little grated square in the rear, and 
nosing there 

The snout of some strange animal that sniffed the 

outer air! 

109 



THE CIRCUS-DAY PARADE 

And, last of all, The Clown, making mirth for all 
the town, 

With his lips cui*ved ever upward and his eye- 
brows ever down, 

And his chief attention paid to the little mule that 
played 

A tattoo on the dash-board with his heels, in the 
Parade. 

Oh! the Circus-Day Parade! How the bugles 
played and played ! 

And how the glossy horses tossed their flossy 
manes and neighed, 

As the rattle and the rhyme of the tenor-drum- 
mer's time 

Filled all the hungry hearts of us with melody sub- 
lime I 



no 



THE OLD HAY-MOW 

The Old Hay-mow's the place to play 
Fer boys, when it's a rainy day! 
I good 'eal ruther be up there 
Than down in town, er anywhere ! 

When I play in our stable-loft. 
The good old hay's so dry an' soft, 
An' feels so fine, an' smells so sweet, 
I 'most ferget to go an' eat. 

An' one time onc't I did ferget 

To go tel dinner was all et, — 

An' they had short-cake- — an' — Bud he 

Hogged up the piece Ma saved fer me ! 

Nen I won't let him play no more 
In our hay-mow where I keep store 
An' got hen-eggs to sell, — an' shoo 
The cackle-un old hen out, too ! 
Ill 



THE OLD HAY-MOW 

An' nen, when Aunty she was here 
A-visitun from Rensselaer, 
An' bringed my little cousin, — he 
Can come up there an' play with me. 

But, after while — when Bud he bets 
'At I can't turn no summersetts, 
I let him come up, ef he can 
Ac' ha'f-way like a gentleman! 



112 



JOHN TARKINGTON JAMESON 

John Jameson, mj^ jo John ! 

Ye're bonnie wee an' sma' ; 
Your ee's the morning violet, 

Wi' tremblin' dew an' a' ; 
Your smile's the gowden simmer-sheen, 

Wi' glintin' pearls aglow 
Atween the posies o' your lips, 

John Jameson, my jo ! 

Ye hae the faither's braith o' brow. 

An' synes his look benign 
Whiles he hings musin' ower the burn, 

Wi' leestless hook an' line ; 
Ye hae the mither's mou' an' cheek 

An' denty chin — but O ! 
It's maist ye're like your ain braw sel', 

John Jameson, my jo ! 



8 



113 



JOHN TARKINGTON JAMESON 

John Jameson, my Jo John, 

Though, wi' sic luvers twain, 
Ye dance far yont your whustlin' frien* 

Wha laggart walks his lane,-^ 
Be mindet, though he naps his last 

Whaur kirkyird thistles grow. 
His ghaist shall caper on wi' you, 

John Jameson, my jo ! 



114 



GUINEY-PIGS 

GuiNEY-PiGS is awful cute, 

With their little trimbly snoot 

Sniffin' at the pussly that 

We bring 'em to nibble at. 

Looks like they're so clean an' white, 
An' so dainty an' polite, 
They could eat like you an' me 
When they's company! 

Tiltin' down the clover-tops 
Till they spill, an' over drops 
The sweet morning dew — Don't you 
Think they might have napkins, too? 
Ef a guiney-pig was big 
As a shore-an^ -certain pig, 
Nen he wouldn't ac' so fine 
When he come to dine. 

115 



GUINEY-PIGS 

Nen he'd chomp his jaws an' eat 
Things out in the dirty street, 
Dirt an' all ! An' nen lay down 
In mud-holes an' waller roun' ! 
So the guiney-figs is best, 
'Cause they're nice an' tidiest ; 
They eat 'most like you an' me 
When they's company! 



ii6 



BUSCH AND TOMMY 

Little Busch and Tommy Hays — 
Small the theme, but large the praise,- 

For two braver brothers, 
Of such toddling years and size. 
Bloom of face, and blue of eyes, 
Never trampled soldier-wise 

On the rights of mothers ! 

Even boldly facing their 
Therapeutic father's air 

Of complex abstraction, 
But to kindle — kindlier gaze, 
Wake more smiles and gracious ways 
Ay, nor find in all their days 

Ampler satisfaction ! 

Hail ye, then, with chirp and cheer, 
All w-an patients, waiting here 

Bitterer medications ! 
Busch and Tommy, tone us, too. — 
How our life-blood leaps anew, 
Under loving touch of you 

And your ministrations ! 
117 



HIS CHRISTMAS SLED 



I WATCH him, with his Christmas sled 

He hitches on behind 
A passing sleigh, with glad hooray. 

And whistles down the wind ; 
He hears the horses champ their bits. 

And bells that jingle-jingle — 
You Woolly Cap ! you Scarlet Mitts ! 

You miniature "Kriss Kringle!" 

I almost catch your secret joy — 

Your chucklings of delight. 
The while you whiz where glory is 

Eternally in sight ! 
With you I catch my breath, as swift 

Your jaunty sled goes gliding 
O'er glassy track and shallow drift, 

As I behind were riding! 
ii8 



HIS CHRISTMAS SLED 
II 

He winks at twinklings of the frost, 

And on his airy race, 
Its tingles beat to redder heat 

The rapture of his face : — 
The colder, keener is the air, 

The less he cares a feather. 
But, there! he's gone! and I gaze on 

The wintriest of weather ! 

Ah, Boy! still speeding o'er the track 

Where none returns again. 
To sigh for you, or cry for you. 

Or die for you were vain. — 
And so, speed on! the while I pray 

All nipping frosts forsake you — 
Ride still ahead of grief, but may 

All glad things overtake you ! 



119 



BABE HERRICK 

As a rosebud might, in dreams, 
'Mid some lilies lie, meseems 
Thou, pink youngling, on the breast 
Of thy mother slumberest. 



ISO 



THE LAND OF THUS-AND-SO 

"How would Willie like to go 
To the Land of Thus-and-So ? 
Everything is proper there — 
All the children comb their hair 
Smoother than the fur of cats, 
Or the nap of high silk hats ; 
Every face is clean and white 
As a lily washed in light ; 
Never vaguest soil or speck 
Found on forehead, throat or neck; 
Every little crimpled ear, 
In and out, as pure and clear 
As the cherry-blossom's blow 
In the Land of Thus-and-So. 

"Little boys that never fall 
Down the stair, or cry at all — 
Doing nothing to repent, 
Watchful and obedient; 

131 



THE LAND OF THUS-AND-SO 

Never hungry, nor in haste — 
Tidy shoe-strings always laced ; 
Never button rudely torn 
From its fellows all unworn ; 
Knickerbockers always new — 
Ribbon, tie, and collar, too; 
Little watches, worn like men, 
Always promptly half-past ten — 
Just precisely right, you know, 
For the Land of Thus-and-So ! 

"And the little babies there 
Give no one the slightest care — 
Nurse has not a thing to do 
But be happy and sigh 'Boo!' 
While Mamma just nods, and knows 
Nothing but to doze and doze : 
Never litter round the grate ; 
Never lunch or dinner late ; 
Never any household din 
Peals without or rings within — 
Baby coos nor laughing calls 
On the stairs or through the halls — 
Just Great Hushes to and fro 
Pace the Land of Thus-and-So! 

122 



THE LAND OF THUS-AND-SO 

"Oh! the Land of Thus-ahd-So !— 
Isn't it delightful, though?" 
"Yes," lisped Willie, answering me 
Somewhat slow and doubtfully — 
"Must be awful nice, but I 
Ruther wait till by and by 
'Fore I go there — maybe when 
I be dead I'll go there then. — 
But"— the troubled little face 
Closer pressed in my embrace — 
"Le's don't never ever go 
To the Land of Thus-and-So!" 



123 



GRANDFATHER SQUEERS 

"My grandfather Squeers," said The Raggedy 

Man, 
As he solemnly lighted his pipe and began — 

"The most indestructible man, for his years, 
And the grandest on earth, was my grandfather 
* Squeers ! 

"He said, when he rounded his threescore-and-ten, 
'I've the hang of it now and can do it again !' 

"He had frozen his heels so repeatedly, he 
Could tell by them just what the weather would be ; 

"And would laugh and declare, 'while the Alma- 
nac would 
Most falsely prognosticate, he never could!* 

"Such a hale constitution had grandfather Squeers 
That, though he'd used ^7zavy^ for sixty-odd years, 

"He still chewed a dime's-worth six days of the 

week. 

While the seventh he passed with a chew in each 

cheek. 

124 



GRANDFATHER SQUEERS 

" Then my grandfather Squeers had a singular 

knack 
Of sitting around on the small of his back, 

"With his legs like a letter Y stretched o'er the 

grate 
Wherein 'twas his custom to ex-pec-tor-ate. 

"He was fond of tobacco in fnanifold ways. 
And would sit on the door-step, of sunshiny days, 

"And smoke leaf-tobacco he'd raised strictly for 
The pipe he'd used all through The Mexican War." 

And The Raggedy Man said, refilling the bowl 
Of his own pipe and leisurely picking a coal 

From the stove with his finger and thumb, "You 

can see 
What a tee-nacious habit he's fastened on me! 

And my grandfather Squeers took a special de- 
light 
In pruning his corns every Saturday night 



125 



GRANDFATHER SQUEERS 

With a horn-handled razor, whose edge he excused 
By saying 'twas one that his grandfather used ; 

"And, though deeply etched in the haft of the 

same 
Was the ever-euphonious Wostenholm's name, 

" 'Twas my grandfather's custom to boast of the 

blade 
As 'A Seth Thomas razor — the best ever made!' 

"No Old Settlers' Meeting, or Pioneers' Fair, 
Was complete without grandfather Squeers in the 
chair, 

"To lead off the program by telling folks how 
'He used to shoot deer where the Court-House 
stands now' — 

"How 'he felt, of a truth, to live over the past, 
When the country was wild and unbroken and 
vast, 

" 'That the little log cabin was just plenty fine 
For himself, his companion, and fambly of nine ! — 

126 



GRANDFATHER SQUEERS 

" 'When they didn't have even a pump, or a tin, 
But drunk surface-v^ater, year out and year in, 

*' 'From the old-fashioned gourd that was sweeter, 

by odds, 
Than the goblets of gold at the lips of the gods !' '* 

Then The Raggedy Man paused to plaintively say 
It was clockin' along to'rds the close of the day — 

And he'd ought to get back to his work on the 

lawn, — 
Then dreamily blubbered his pipe and went on: 

"His teeth were imperfect — my grandfather owned 
That he couldn't eat oysters unless they were 
'boned' ; 

"And his eyes were so weak, and so feeble of 

sight, 
He couldn't sleep with them unless, every night, 

"H^e put on his spectacles — all he possessed, — 
Three pairs — with his goggles on top of the rest. 

"And my grandfather alwaj^s, retiring at night, 
Blew down the lamp-chimney to put out the light ; 

127 



GRANDFATHER SQUEERS 

"Then he'd curl up on edge like a shaving, in bed, 
And puff and smoke pipes in his sleep, it is said: 

"And would snore oftentimes, as the legends re- 
late. 
Till his folks were wrought up to a terrible state, — 

"Then he'd snort, and rear up, and roll over; and 

there 
In the subsequent hush they could hear him chew 

air. 

"And so glaringly bald was the top of his head 
That many's the time he has musingly said, 

"As his eyes journeyed o'er its reflex in the glass, — 
'I must set out a few signs of Keep Off the Grass V 

"So remarkably deaf was my gi-andf ather Squeers 
That he had to wear lightning-rods over his ears 

"To even hear thunder — and oftentimes then 
He was forced to request it to thunder again." 



128 



THE LITTLE TINY KICKSHAW 

O THE little tiny kickshaw that Mither sent tae me, 
'Tis sweeter than the sugar-plum that reepens on 

the tree, 
Wi' denty flavorin's o' spice an' musky rosemarie, 
The little tiny kickshaw that Mither sent tae me. 

'Tis luscious wi' the stalen tang o' fruits frae ower 

the sea, 
An' e'en its fragrance gars me laugh wi' langin' 

lip an' ee, 
Till a' its frazen sheen o' white maun melten 

hinnie be — 
Sae weel I luve the kickshaw that Mither sent tae 

me. 

O I luve the tiny kickshaw, an' I smack my lips 

wi' glee, 
Aye mickle do I luve the taste o' sic a luxourie, 
But maist I luve the luvein' han's that could the 

giftie gie 
O' the little tiny kickshaw that Mither sent tae me. 

9 129 



THE LUGUBRIOUS WHING-WHANG 

The rhyme o' The Raggedy Man's 'at's best 

Is Tickle me, Love, in these Lonesome Ribs, 
'Cause that-un's the strangest of all o' the rest, 
An' the worst to learn, an' the last one guessed, 
An' the funniest one, an' the foolishest. — 

Tickle me, Love, in these Lonesome Ribs! 

I don't know what in the world it means — 

Tickle me. Love, In these Lonesome Ribs! — 
An' nen when I tell him I don't, he leans 
Like he was a-grindin' on some machines 
An' says: Ef I don't^ w'y, I don't know beans I 
Tickle me, Love, in these Lonesome Ribs! 

Out on the margin of Moonshine Land, 

Tickle me. Love, in these Lonesome Ribs! 
Out where the Whing-Whang loves to stand. 
Writing his name with his tail in the sand. 
And swiping it out with his oogerish hand ; 

Tickle me, Love, in these Lonesome Ribs! 
130 



THE LUGUBRIOUS WHING-WHANG 

Is it the gibber of Gungs or Keeks ? 

Tickle me, Love, in these Lonesome Ribs! 
Or what is the sound that the Whing- Whang 

seeks ? — 
Crouching low by the winding creeks, 
And holding his breath for weeks and weeks ! 

Tickle me. Love, in these Lonesome Ribs! 

Aroint him the wraithest of wraithly things ! 

Tickle me, Love, in these Lonesome Ribs! 
'Tis a fair Whing- Whangess, with phosphor rings, 
And bridal-jewels of fangs and stings; 
And she sits and as sadly and softly sings 
As the mildewed whir of her own dead wings, — 

Tickle me. Dear, 
Tickle me here, 

Tickle me, Love, in me Lonesome Ribs! 



131 



THE WAY THE BABY WOKE 

And this is the way the baby woke : 

As when in deepest drops of dew 
The shine and shadows sink and soak, 

The sweet eyes glimmered through and through ; 
And eddyings and dimples broke 

x\bout the lips, and no one knew 
Or could divine the words they spoke— 
And this is the way the baby woke. 



132 



McFEETERS' FOURTH 

It was needless to say 'twas a glorious day, 
And to boast of it all in that spread-eagle way 
That our Forefathers had since the hour of the birth 
Of this most patriotic republic on earth ! 
But 'twas justice, of course, to admit that the sight 
Of the old Stars-and-Stripes was a thing of delight 
In the eyes of a fellow, however he tried 
To look on the day with a dignified pride 
That meant not to brook any turbulent glee 
Or riotous flourish of loud jubilee ! 

So argued McFeeters, all grim and severe. 
Who the long night before, with a feeling of fear, 
Had slumbered but fitfully, hearing the swish 
Of the sky rocket over his roof, with the wish 
That the boy-fiend who fired it were fast to the end 
Of the stick to for ever and ever ascend ! 
Or to hopelessly ask why the boy with the horn 
And its horrible havoc had ever been born ! 
Or to wish, in his wakefulness, staring aghast, 
That this Fourth of July were as dead as the last ! 

133 



MCFEETERS FOURTH 

So, yesterday morning, McFeeters arose, 
With a fire in his eyes, and a cold in his nose, 
And a guttural voice in appropriate key 
With a temper as gruff as a temper could be. 
He growled at the servant he met on the stair, 
Because he Vv^as whistling a national air. 
And he growled at the maid on the balcony, who 
Stood enrapt with the tune of *'The Red-White- 

and-Blue" 
That a band was discoursing like mad in the street, 
With drumsticks that banged, and with cymbals 

that beat. 

And he growled at his wife, as she buttoned his 

vest. 
And applausively pinned a rosette on his breast 
Of the national colors, and lured from his purse 
Some change for the boys — for fire-crackers — or 

worse ; 
And she pointed with pride to a soldier in blue 
In a frame on the wall, and the colors there, too ; 
And he felt, as he looked on the features, the glow 
The painter found there twent}'- long years ago. 



134 



MCFEETERS FOURTH 

And a passionate thrill in his breast, as he felt 
Instinctively round for the sword in his belt. 

What was it that hung like a mist o'er the room ? — 
The tumult without — and the music — the boom 
Of the cannon — the blare of the bugle and fife? — 
No matter! — McFeeters was kissing his wife, 
And laughing and crying and waving his hat 
Like a genuine soldier, and crazy, at that ! 
— Was it needless to say 'twas a glorious day 
And to boast of it all in that spread-eagle way 
That our Forefathers had since the hour of the 

birth 
Of this most patriotic republic on earth ? 



135 



LITTLE MANDY'S CHRISTMAS-TREE 

Little Mandy and her Ma 
'S porest folks you ever saw! — 
Lived in porest house in town, 
Where the fence 'uz all tore down. 

And no front-door steps at all — 
1st a' old box 'g'inst the wall; 
And no door-knob on the door 
Outside. — Aly ! but they 'uz pore! 

Wuz no winder-shutters on, 
And some of the winders gone. 
And where they 'uz broke they'd pas'e 
1st brown paper 'crost the place. 

Tellyo\x\ when it's tvinter there^^ 
And the snow istever'where, 
Little Mandy' s Ma she say 
'Spec' they'll freeze to death some day. 

Wunst my Ma and me — when we 
Be'n to church, and's goin' to be 
Chris'mus purty soon, — we went 
There — like the Committee sent. 
136 



A^zdsir ! when we're in the door, 
Wuz no carpet on the floor, 
And no fire — and heels-and-head 
Little Mandy's tucked in bed! 

And her Ma telled my Ma she 
Got no coffee but ist tea, 
And fried mush — and's all they had 
Sence her health broke down so bad. 

Nen Ma hug and hold me where 
Little Mandy's layin' there; 
And she kiss her, too, and nen 
Mandy kiss my Ma again. 

And my Ma she telled her we 
Goin' to have a Chris' mus-Tree, 
At the Sund'y School, 'at's fer 
All the childern, and fer her. 

Little Mandy think — nen she 
Say, "What is a Chris'mus-Tree?" , 
Nen my Ma she gived her Ma 
Somepin' 'at I never saw, 



LITTLE MANDY S CHRISTMAS-TREE 

And say she 7nust take it, — and 
She ist maked her keep her hand 
Wite close shut, — and nen she kiss 
Her hand — shut ist like it is. 

Nen we corned away. . . . And nen 
When its Chris' mus Eve again, 
And all of us childerns be 
At the Church and Chris 'mus-Tree — • 

And all git our toys and things 
'At old Santy Claus he brings 
And puts on the Tree ; — wite where 
The big Tree 'uz standin' there, 

And the things 'uz all tooked down, 
And the childerns, all in town, 
Got their presents — nen we see 
They's a little Chris'mus-Tree 

Wite behind the big Tree — so 
We can't see till ne?i^ you know, — 
And it's all ist loaded down 
With the purtiest things in town ! 

138 



LITTLE MANDY'S CHRISTMAS-TREK 

And the teacher smile and say: 
"This-here Tree 'at's hid away 
It's marked '•Little Majzdy's Tree,*- 
Little Mandy ! Where is she ?' ' 

Nen nobody say a word. — 
Stillest place you ever heard ! — [ 
Till a man tiptoe up where 
Teacher's still a-waitin' there. 

Nen the man he whispers, so 
1st the Teacher hears, you know. 
Nen he tiptoe back and go 
Out the big door — ist as slow ! 

Little Mandy ^ though, she don't 
Answer — and Ma say "she won't 
Never ^ though each year they'll be 
'Little Mandy' s Chris' mus-Tree' 

Fer pore childern" — my Ma says — 
And Co7nmittee say they guess 
"Little Mandy's Tree" 'ull be 
Bigger than the other Tree ! 

139 



THE FUNNIEST THING IN THE 
WORLD 

The funniest thing in the world, I know, 
Is watchin' the monkeys 'at's in the show! — 
Jumpin' an' runnin' an' racin' roun', 
'Way up the top o' the pole; nen down! 
First they're here, an' nen they're there, 
An' ist a'most any an' ever' where! — 
Screechin' an' scratchin' wherever they go, 
They're the funniest thing in the world, I know! 

They're the funniest thing in the world, I think: — 

Funny to watch 'em eat an' drink; 

Funny to watch 'em a-watchin' us. 

An' actin' 'most like grown folks does ! — 

Funny to watch 'em p'tend to be 

Skeerd at their tail 'at they happen to see; — 

But the funniest thing in the world they do 

Is never to laugh, like me an' you ! 



140 



LITTLE JOHNTS'S CHRIS'MUS 

We got it up a-purpose, jes fer little Johnts, you 
know; 

His mother was so pore an' all, an' had to man- 
age so — 

Jes bein' a War-widder, an' her pension mighty 
slim, 

She'd take in weavin', er work out, er anything 
fer him! 

An' little Johnts was puny-like — ^but law, the nerve 

he had! — 
You'd want to kindo' pity him, but couldn't, very 

bad, — 
His pants o' army-blanket an' his coat o' faded 

blue 
Kep' hintin' of his father like, an' pity wouldn't do ! 

So we collogued together, onc't, one winter-time, 
'at we — 

Jes me an' mother an' the girls, an' Wilse, John- 
Jack an' Free — 

141 



LITTLE jOHNTS*S CHRIS*MUS 

Would jine an' git up little Johnts, by time 'at 

Chris' mus come, 
Some sort o' doin's, don't you know, 'at would 

su 'prise him some. 

An' so, all on the quiet, Mother she turns in an* 

gits 
Some blue-janes — cuts an' makes a suit ; an' then 

sets down an' knits 
A pair o' little galluses to go 'long with the rest — 
An' putts in a red=flannen back, an' buckle on the 

vest. — 

The little feller'd be'n so much around our house, 

you see, 
An' be'n sich he'p to her an' all, an' handy as 

could be, 
'At Mother couldn't do too much fer little Johnts — 

No, Sir! 
She ust to jes declare 'at ''he was meat-an'-drin^ 

toherl" 



142 



LITTLE JOHNTS'S CHRIS*MUS 

An' Piney, Lide, an' Madaline they watch their 

chance an' rid 
To Fountaintown with Lijey's folks; an' bought 

a book, they did, 
O' fairy tales, with pictur's in ; an' got a little pair 
O' red-top boots 'at John- Jack said he'd be'n a- 

pricin' there. 

An' Lide got him a little sword, an' Madaline, a 

drum ; 
An' shootin' -crackers — Lawzy-day! an' they're so 

danger-some ! 
An' Piney, ever' time the rest 'ud buy some other 

toy, 
She'd take an' turn in then an' buy more candy 

f er the boy ! 

"Well," thinks-says-I, when they got back, '''•your 

pocket-books is dry!" — 
But little Johnts was there hisse'f that afternoon, 

so I — 
Well, all of us kep' mighty mum, tel we got him 

away 
By tellin' him be shore an' come to-njorry — Chris'- 

mus Day — 

143 



LITTLE JOHNTS S CHRIS MUS 

An' fetch his mother 'long with him ! An' how he 

scud acrost 
The fields — his towhead, in the dusk, Jes like a 

streak o' frost! — 
His comfert fluttern as he run — an' old Tige, don't 

you know, 
A-jumpin' high for rabbits an' a ploughin' up the 

snow! 

It must 'a' be'n 'most ten that night afore we got 
to bed — 

With Wilse an' John- Jack he'ppin' us ; an' Free- 
man in the shed. 

An' Lide out with the lantern while he trimmed 
the Chris 'mus Tree 

Out of a little scrub-oak-top 'at suited to a <'T" ! 

All night I dreamp' o' hearin' things a-skulkin' 
round the place — 

An' "Old Kriss," with his whiskers off, an' freck- 
les on his face — 

An' reindeers, shaped like shavin'-hosses at the 
cooper-shop, 

A-stickin' down the chitnbly, with their heels out 

at the top ! 

144 



LITTLE JOHNTS S CHRIS MUS 

By time 'at Mother got me up 'twas plum day- 
light an' more — 

The front yard full o' neighbers all a-crowdin' 
round the door, 

With Johnts's mother leadin' ; yes — an' little 
Johnts hisse'f, 

Set up on Freeman's shoulder, like a jug ^up on 
the she'f! 

Of course I can't describe It when they all got in 
to where 

We'd conjered up the Chris' mus-Tree an' all the 
fixin's there! — 

Fer all the shouts o' laughture — clappin' hands, 
an' crackin' jokes, 

Was heap o' kissin' goin' on amongst the women- 
folks:— 

Fer, lo-behold-ye ! there they had that young-un ! — 

An' his chin 
A-wobblin'-like ; — an', shore enough, at last he 

started In — 
An' — sich another bellerin', in all my mortal days, 
I never heerd, er 'spect to hear, In woe's app'inted 

ways! 

lo 145 



LITTLE JOHNTS'S CHRIS'MUS 

An' Mother grabs him up an' says: "It's more*n 

he can bear — 
It's all too suddent fer the child, an' too su'prisin* ! 

— There r' 
"Oh, no it ain't" — sobbed little Johnts — "I ain't 

su'prised — but I'm 
A-cryin' 'cause I watched you all, an' knowed it 

all the time!" 



146 



THE ORCHARD LANDS OF LONG AGO 

The orchard lands of Long Ago ! 
O drowsy winds, awake, and blow 
The snowy blossoms back to me. 
And all the buds that used to be ! 
Blov^r back along the grassy ways 
Of truant feet, and lift the haze 
Of happy summer from the trees 
That trail their tresses in the seas 
Of grain that float and overflow 
The orchard lands of Long Ago ! 

Blow back the melody that slips 
In lazy laughter from the lips 
That marvel much if any kiss 
Is sweeter than the apple's is. 
Blow back the twitter of the birds — 
The lisp, the titter, and the words 



H7 



THE ORCHARD LANDS OF LONG ASO 

Of merriment that found the shine 

Of summer-time a glorious wine 

That drenched the leaves that loved it so, 

In orchard lands of Long Ago ! 

O memory ! alight and sing 
Where rosy-bellied pippins cling, 
And golden russets glint and gleam, 
As, in the old Arabian dream, 
The fruits of that enchanted tree 
The glad Aladdin robbed for me ! 
And, drowsy winds, awake and fan 
My blood as when it overran 
A heart ripe as the apples grow 
In orchard lands of Long Ago ! 



148 



THE BOYS' CANDIDATE 

Las' time 'at Uncle Sidney come, 
He bringed a watermelon home — 

An' half the boys in town 
Come taggin' after him. — An' he 
Says, when we et it, — '^Gracious me I 

'kS* the boy 'house fell downF' 



149 



THE BUMBLEBEE 

You better not fool with a Bumblebee! — 

Ef you don't think they can sting — you'll see! 

They're lazy to look at, an' kindo' go 

Buzzin' an' bummin' aroun' so slow, 

An' ac' so slouchy an' all fagged out, 

Danglin' their legs as they drone about 

The hollyhawks 'at they can't climb in 

'Ithout ist a-tumble-un out ag'in ! 

Wunst I watched one climb clean 'way 

In a jimson-blossom, I did, one day, — 

An' I ist grabbed it — an' nen let go — 

An' '•'•Ooh-ooh! Honey! I told ye so V 

Says the Raggedy Man ; an' he ist run 

An' pulltout the stinger, an' don't laugh none, 

An' says: "They A^i- be'n folks, I guess, 

'At thought I wuz prejudust, more er less, — 

Yit I still muntain 'at a Bumblebee 

Wears out his welcome too quick fer me!" 



150 



HE CALLED HER IN 



He called her in from me and shut the door. 
And she so loved the sunshine and the sky! — 
She loved them even better yet than I 
That ne'er knew dearth of them — my mother dead, 
Nature had nursed me in her lap instead : 
And I had grown a dark and eerie child 
That rarely smiled, 

Save when, shut all alone in grasses high, 
Looking straight up in God's great lonesome sky 
And coaxing Mother to smile back on me. 
Twas lying thus, this fair girl suddenly 
Came on me, nestled in the fields beside 
A pleasant-seeming home, with doorway wide — 
The sunshine beating in upon the floor 
Like golden rain. — 

O sweet, sweet face above me, turn again 
And leave me! I had cried, but that an ache 
Within my throat so gripped it I could make 
1=^1 



HE CALLED HER IN 

No sound but a thick sobbing. Cowering so, 
I felt her light hand laid 
Upon my hair — a touch that ne'er before 
Had tamed me thus, all soothed and unafraid — 
It seemed the touch the children used to know- 
When Christ was here, so dear it was — so dear, — 
At once I loved her as the leaves love dew 
In midmost summer when the days are new. 
Barely an hour I knew her, yet a curl 
Of silken sunshine did she clip for me 
Out of the bright May-morning of her hair, 
And bound and gave it to me laughingly. 
And caught my hands and called me '•'•Little girl ^^^ 
Tiptoeing, as she spoke, to kiss me there! 
And I stood dazed and dumb for very stress 
Of my great happiness. 

She plucked me by the gown, nor saw how mean 
The raiment — drew me with her everywhere : 
Smothered her face in tufts of grasses green: 
Put up her dainty hands and peeped between 
Her lingers at the blossoms — crooned and talked 
To them in strange, glad whispers, as we walked, — 
Said this one was her angel mother — this^ 
Her baby-sister — come back, for a kiss, 



HE CALLED HER IN 

Clean from the Good-World ! — smiled and kissed 

them, then 
Closed her soft eyes and kissed them o'er again. 
And so did she beguile me — so we played, — 
She was the dazzling Shine — I, the dark Shade — 
And we did mingle like to these, and thus, 
Together, made 

The perfect summer, pure and glorious. 
So blent we, till a harsh voice broke upon 
Our happiness. — She, startled as a fawn. 
Cried, "Oh, 'tis Father! " — all the blossoms gone 
From out her cheeks as those from out her grasp. — 
Harsher the voice came : — She could only gasp 
Affrightedly, "Good-bye! — good-bye! good- 
bye!" 
And lo, I stood alone, with that harsh cry 
Ringing a new and unknown sense of shame 
Through soul and frame, 

And, with wet eyes, repeating o'er and o'er,— 
"He called her in from me and shut the door!" 



153 



HE CALLED HER IN 



II 



He called her in from me and shut the door ! 

And I went wandering alone again — 

So lonely — O so very lonely then, 

I thought no little sallow star, alone 

In all a world of twilight, e'er had known 

Such utter loneliness. But that I wore 

Above my heart that gleaming tress of hair 

To lighten up the night of my despair, 

I think I might have groped into my grave 

Nor cared to wave 

The ferns above it with a breath of prayer. 

And how I hungered for the sweet, sweet face 

That bent above me in my hiding-place 

That day amid the grasses there beside 

Her pleasant home! — '■^'Heic pleasant home!" I 

sighed. 
Remembering; — then shut my teeth and feigned 
The harsh voice calling 7ne^ — then clinched my 

nails 
So deeply in my palms, the sharp wounds pained. 
And tossed my face toward heaven, as one who 

pales 



HE CALLED HER IN 

In splendid martyrdom, with soul serene, 

As near to God as high the guillotine. 

And I had envied her? Not that — O no! 

But I had longed for some sweet haven so! — 

Wherein the tempest-beaten heart might ride 

Sometimes at peaceful anchor, and abide 

Where those that loved me touched me with their 

hands, 
And looked upon me with glad eyes, and slipped 
Smooth fingers o'er my brow, and lulled the strands 
Of my wild tresses, as they backward tipped 
My yearning face and kissed it satisfied. 
Then bitterly I murmured as before, — 
"He called her in from me and shut the door!" 

Ill 

He called her in from me and shut the door! 
After long struggling with my pride and pain — 
A weary while it seemed, in which the more 
I held myself from her, the greater fain 
Was I to look upon her face again; — 
At last — at last — half conscious where my feet 
Were faring, I stood waist-deep in the sweet 
Green grasses there where she 
First came to me. — 



HE CALLED HER IN 

The very blossoms she had plucked that day, 

And, at her father's voice, had cast away, 

Around me lay, 

Still bright and blooming in these eyes of mine ; 

And as I gathered each one eagerly, 

I pressed it to my lips and drank the wine 

Her kisses left there for the honey-bee. 

TherL, after I had laid them with the tress 

Of her bright hair w^ith lingering tenderness, 

I, turning, crept on to the hedge that bound 

Her pleasant-seeming home — but all around 

Was never sign of her! — The windows all 

Were blinded ; and I heard no rippling fall 

Of her glad laugh, nor any harsh voice call; — 

But, clutching to the tangled grasses, caught 

A sound as though a strong man bowed his head 

And sobbed alone — unloved — ^uncomforted ! — 

And then straightway before 

My tearless eyes, all vividly, was wrought 

A vision that is with me evermore: — 

A little girl that lies asleep, nor hears 

Nor heeds not any voice nor fall of tears. — 

And I sit singing o'er and o'er and o'er, — 

"God called her in from him and shut the door!" 

156 



THE BOY-FRIEND 

Clarence, my boy-friend, hale and strong! 

O he is as jolly as he is young; 
And all of the laughs of the lyre belong 

To the boy all unsung : 

So I want to sing something in his behalf — 
To clang some chords, for the good it is 

To know he is near, and to have the laugh 
Of that wholesome voice of his. 

I want to tell him in gentler ways 

Than prose may do, that the arms of rhyme, 
Warm and tender with tuneful praise, 

Are about him all the time. 

I want him to know that the quietest nights 
We have passed together are yet with me, 

Roistering over the old delights 
That were born of his company. 

157 



THE BOY-FRIEND 

I want him to know how my soul esteems 

The fairy stories of Andersen, 
And the glad translations of all the themes 

Of the hearts of boyish men. 

Want him to know that my fancy flows, 
With the lilt of a dear old-fashioned tune, 

Through "Lewis Carroll's" poemly prose, 
And the tale of "The Bold Dragoon." 

O this is the Prince that I would sing- 
Would drape and garnish in velvet line, 

Since courtlier far than any king 
Is this brave boy-friend of mine. 



58 



WHEN THE WORLD BU'STS THROUGH 

{Casually Suggested by an Earthquake^ 

Where's a boy a-goin', 

An' what's he goin' to do, 
An' how's he goin' to do it, 

When the v/oiid bu'sts through? 
Ma she says "she can't tell 

What we're comin' to!" 
An' Pop says "he's ist skeered 

Clean — plum — through ! ' ' 

S'pose we'd be a-playin' 

Out in the street, 
An' the ground 'ud split up 

'Bout forty feet ! — 
Ma says "she ist knows 

We 'ud tumble in" ; 
An' Pop says "he bets you 

Nen we wouldn't grin!" 

S'pose we'd ist be 'tendin' 

Like we had a show, 
Down in the staBle 

Where we mustn' go, — 
X59 



WHEN THE WORLD BU STS THROUGH 

Ma says, "The earthquake 

Might make it fall"; 
An' Pop says, "More'n like 

Swaller barn an' all!" 

Landy ! ef we both wuz 

Runnin' 'way from school, 
Out in the shady woods 

Where it's all so cool! — 
Ma says ''a big tree 

Might sqush our head" ; 
An' Pop says, "Chop 'em out 

Both— killed— dead!" 

But where' s a boy goin', 

An' what's he goin' to do, 
An' how's he goin' to do it, 

Ef the world bu'sts through? 
Ma she says "she can't tell 

What we're comin' to!" 
An' Pop says "he's ist skeered 

Clean — plum — through ! " 



i6o 



A PROSPECTIVE GLIMPSE 

Janey Pettibone's the best 
Little girl an' purtiest 
In this town ! an' lives next door, 
Up-stairs over their old store. 

Little Janey Pettibone 
An' her Ma lives all alone, — 
'Cause her Pa broke up, an' nen 
Died 'cause they ain't rich again. 

Little Janey' s Ma she sews 
Fer my Ma sometimes, an' goes 
An' gives music-lessuns — where 
People's got pianers there. 

But when Janey Pettibone 

Grows an' grows, like I'm a growin', 

Nen I'm go' to keep a store, 

An' sell things — an' sell some more — 

Till I'm ist as rich! — An' nen 
Her Ma can be rich again, — 
Yuil'in rich enough to own 
Little Janey Pettibone ! 
II i6i 



THE OLD TRAMP 

A' OLD Tramp slep' in our stable wunst, 
An' The Raggedy Man he caught 

An' roust him up, an' chased him off 
Clean out through our back lot! 

An' th' old Tramp hollered back an' said,- 
"You're 2i furty man! — Ton air! — 

With a pair o' eyes like two fried eggs, 
An' a nose like a Bartlutt pear!" 



163 



CURLY LOCKS 

Curly Locks I Curly Locks I wilt thou he mine? 
Thoti shalt not wash the dishes^ nor yet feed the 

swine^ — 
But sit on a cushion and sew a Jine seam^ 
And feast upon strazvberries^ sugar and C7'eain. 

Curly Locks ! Curly Locks ! wilt thou be mine ? 
The throb of my heart is in every line, 
And the pulse of a passion as airy and glad 
In its musical beat as the little Prince had ! 

Thou shalt not wash the dishes, nor yet feed the 

swine ! — 
O I'll dapple thy hands with these kisses of mine 
Till the pink of the nail of each finger shall be 
As a little pet blush in full blossom for me. 

But sit on a cushion and sew a fine seam. 
And thou shalt have fabric as fair as a dream, — 
The red of my veins, and the white of my love. 
And the gold of my joy for the braiding thereof. 
163 



CURLY LOCKS 

And feast upon strawberries, sugar and cream 
From a sei"vice of silver, with jewels agleam, — 
At thy feet will I bide, at thy beck will I rise, 
And twinkle my soul in the night of thine eyes ! 

Curly Locks! Curly Locks I wilt thou be minef 
Thou shalt not wash the dishes^ nor yet feed the 

swine ^ — 
But sit on a cushion and sew a fine seam^ 
And feast u^on strawberries^ sugar and cream. 



164 



THE PETXOON 

NoEY BiXLER ketched him, an' fetched him in to 
me 
When he's ist a little teenty-weenty baby-coon 
'Bout as big as little pups, an' tied him to a tree ; 
An' Pa gived Noey fifty cents, when he come 
home at noon. 
Nen he buyed a chain fer him, an' little collar, too, 
An' sawed a hole in a' old tub an' turnt it upside 
down; 
An' little feller' d stay in there and won't come out 
fer you — 
'Tendin' like he's kindo' skeered o' boys 'at 
lives in town. 

Now he ain't afeard a bit! he's ist so fat an' tame, 
We on'y chain him up at night, to save the little 
chicks. 
Holler "Greedy! Greedy!" to him, an' he knows 
his name. 
An' here he'll come a-waddle-un, up fer any 
tricks I 

16:; 



THE PET COON 

He'll climb up my leg, he will, an* waller in my 
lap, 
An' poke his little black paws 'way in my pock- 
ets where 
They's beechnuts, er chinkypins, er any little scrap 
Of anything 'at's good to eat — an' he don't care ! 

An' he's as spunky as you please, an' don't like 
dogs at all. — 
Billy Miller's black-an'-tan tackled him one day, 
An' "Greedy" he ist kindo' doubled all up like a 
ball, 
An' Billy's dog he gived a yelp er two an' runned 
away ! 
An' nen when Billy fighted me, an' hit me with a 
bone, 
An' Ma she purt' nigh ketched him as he dodged 
an' scooted through 
The fence, she says, "You better let my little boy 
alone, 
Or 'Greedy,' next he whips yer dog, shall whip 
you, too!" 



^ee 



A NONSENSE RHYME 

Ringlety- jiNG ! 

And what will we sing? 
Some little crinkety-crankety thing 

That rhymes and chimes, 

And skips, sometimes, 
As though wound up with a kink in the spring. 

Grunkety-krung ! 
And chunkety-plung ! 
Sing the song that the bullfrog sung, — 
A song of the soul 
Of a mad tadpole 
That met his fate in a leaky bowl : 
And it's O for the first false wiggle he made 
In a sea of pale pink lemonade ! 
And it's O for the thirst 

Within him pent, 
And the hopes that burst 
As his reason went — 
When his strong arm failed and his strength was 
spent ! 

167 



A NONSENSE RHYMB 

Sing, O sing 
Of the things that cling, 
And the claws that clutch and the fangs that sting — 
Till the tadpole's tongue 
And his tail upflung 
Quavered and failed with a song unsung! 

O the dank despair in the rank morass, 
Where the crawfish crouch in the cringing 
grass, 
And the long limp mine of the loon wails on 
For the mad, sad soul 
Of a bad tadpole 

Forever lost and gone I 

Jinglety-jee ! 
And now we'll see 
WhsLt the last of the lay shall be. 

As the dismal tip of the tune, O friends, 
Swoons away and the long tale ends. 
And it's O and alack! 

For the tangled legs 
And the spangled back 

Qf the green grig's eggs. 



1 68 



A NONSENSE RHYME 

And the unstrung strain 
Of the strange refrain 
That the winds wind up like a strand of rain ! 

And it's O, 

Also, 
Por the ears wreathed low, 
Like a laurel-wreath on the lifted brow 
Of the frog that chants of the why and how, 

And the wherefore too, and the thus and so 
Of the wail he weaves in a woof of woe ! 
Twangle, then, with your wrangling strings. 
The tinkling links of a thousand things ! 
And clang the pang of a maddening moan 
Till the Echo, hid in a land unknown. 

Shall leap as he hears, and hoot and hoo 
Like the wretched wraith of a Whoop ty-Doo 



169 



NAUGHTY CLAUDE 

When Little Claude was naughty wunst 

At dinner-time, an' said 
He won't say '•'- Thank you'' ^ to his Ma, 

She maked him go to bed 
An' stay two hours an' not git up, — 

So when the clock struck Two, 
Nen Claude says, — "Thank you, Mr. Clock, 

I'm much obleeged to you!" 



170 



THE OLD, OLD WISH 

Last night, in some lost mood of meditation, 
The while my dreamy vision ranged the far 
Unfathomable arches of creation, 

I saw a falling star: 

And as my eyes swept round the path it embered 

With the swift-dying glory of its glow, 
With sudden intuition I remembered, 
A wish of long ago — 

A wish that, were it made — so ran the fancy 

Of credulous young lover and of lass — 
As fell a star, by some strange necromancy, 
Would surely come to pass. 

And, of itself, the wish, reiterated 

A thousand times in youth, flashed o'er riiy 
brain. 
And, like the star, as soon obliterated, 

Dropped into night again. 
171 



THE OLD, OLD WISH 

For my old heart had wished for the unending 

Devotion of a little maid of nine — 
And that the girl-heart, with the woman's blend- 
ing, 

Might be forever mine. 

And so it was, with eyelids raised, and weighty 

With ripest clusterings of sorrow's dew, 
I cried aloud through heaven: "O little Katie! 

When will my wish come true?" 



17a 



"THE PREACHER'S BOY" 
I RiCKOLLECT the little tad, back, years and years 



"The Preacher's Boy" that every one despised 
and hated so ! 

A meek-faced little feller, with white eyes and 
foxy hair, 

And a look like he expected ser'ous trouble every- 
where : 

A sort o' fixed expression of suspicion in his glance ; 

His bare-feet always scratched with briers; and 
green stains on his pants ; 

Molasses-marks along his sleeves; his cap-rim 
turned behind — 

And so it is "The Preacher's Boy" is brought 
again to mind ! 

My fancy even brings the sly marauder back so 

plain, 
I see him jump our garden-fence and slip off down 

the lane ; 



"the preacher's boy" 

And I seem to holler at him and git back the old 

reply : 
"Oh, no: your peaches is too green fer such a 

worm as I ! " 
Fer he scorned his father's phrases — every holy 

one he had — 
"As good a man," folks put it, "as that boy of 

his was bad!" 
And again from their old buggy-shed, I hear the 

"rod unspared" — 
Of course that never "spoiled the child" for which 

nobody cared ! 

If any neighber ever found his gate without a latch, 
Or rines around the edges of his watermelon-patch ; 
His pasture-bars left open; or his pump-spout 

chocked with clay. 
He'd swear 'twas "that infernal Preacher's Boy," 

right away! 
When strings was stretched acrost the street at 

night, and some one got 
An everlastin' tumble, and his nose broke, like as 

not, 



174 



"THE PREACHERS BOY 

And laid it on "The Preacher's Boy'* — no powers, 

low ner high, 
Could ever quite substantiate that boy's alibi! 

And did nobody like the boy? — Well, all the fets 

in town 
Would eat out of his fingers ; and canaries would 

come down 
And leave their swingin' perches and their fish- 
bone jist to pick 
The little warty knuckles that the dogs would leap 

to lick. — 
No little snarlin', snappin' fiste but what would 

leave his bone 
To foUer, ef he whistled, in that tantalizin' tone 
That made the goods-box whittlerblasphemeously 

protest 
"He couldn't tell, 'twixt dog and boy, which one 

was ornriest!" 

'Twas such a little cur as this, onc't, when the 

crowd w^as thick 
Along the streets, a drunken corner-loafer tried to 

kick, 

175 



"THE PREACHERS BOY 

When a sudden foot behind him tripped him up, 

and falling so 
He "marked his man," and jerked his gun — 

drawed up and let 'er go ! 
And the crowd swarmed round the victim — hold- 
ing close against his breast 
The little dog unharmed, in arms that still, as they 

caressed. 
Grew rigid in their last embrace, as with a smile 

of joy 
He recognized the dog was saved. So died "The 

Preacher's Boy" ! 
When it appeared, before the Squire, that fatal 

pistol-ball 
Was fired at "a dangerous beast," and not the boy 

at all, 
And the facts set forth established — it was like-be- 

fittin' then 
To order out a possy of the "city councilmen" 
To kill the dog! But, strange to tell, they searched 

the country round, 
And never hide-ner-hair of that "said" dog was 

ever found ! 



176 



'* THE preacher's BOY " 

And, somehow, then I sorto' thought — and half- 
way think, to-day — 

The spirit of "The Preacher's Boy" had whistled 
him away. 



13 177 



AN IMPETUOUS RESOLVE 

When little Dickie Swope's a man, 

He's go' to be a Sailor; 
An' little Harney Tincher, he's 

A-go' to be a Tailor: 
Bud Mitchell, he's a-go' to be 

A stylish Carriage-Maker; 
An' when /grow a grea'-big man, 

I'm go' to be a Baker! 

An' Dick'll buy his sailor-suit 

O' Hame; an' Hame'll take it 
An' buy as fine a double-rig 

As ever Bud kin make it: 
An' nen all three'll drive roun' fer me, 

An' we'll drive off togevver, 
A-slingin' pie-crust 'long the road 

Ferever an' ferever! 



17S 



A SUDDEN SHOWER 

Barefooted boys scud up the street 
Or scurry under sheltering sheds ; 
And school-girl faces, pale and sweet, 

Gleam from the shawls about their heads. 

Doors bang; and mother-voices call 
. From alien homes ; and rusty gates 
Are slammed ; and high above it all, 
The thunder grim reverberates. 

And then, abrupt, — the rain! the rain! — 
The earth lies gasping ; and the eyes 

Behind the streaming window-pane 
Smile at the trouble of the skies. 

The highway smokes; sharp echoes ring; 

The cattle bawl and cow-bells clank; 
And into town comes galloping 

The farmer's horse, with steaming flank. 
179 



A SUDDEN SHOWER 

The swallow dips beneath the eaves 

And flirts his plumes and folds his wings; 

And under the Catawba leaves 
The caterpillar curls and clings. 

The bumblebee is pelted down 
The wet stem of the hollyhock ; 

And sullenly, in spattered brown, 
The cricket leaps the garden-walk. 

Within, the baby claps his hands 

And crows with rapture strange and vague 
Without, beneath the rose-bush stands 

A dripping rooster on one leg. 



i8o 



THE HUNTER BOY 

Hunter Boy of Hazelwood — 
Happier than Robin Hood! 
Dance across the green, and stand 
Suddenly, with lifted hand 
Shading eager eyes, and be 
Thus content to capture me! — 
Cease thy quest for wilder prey 
Than my willing heart to-day ! 

Hunter Boy ! with belt and bow, 
Bide with me, or let me go, 
An thou wilt, in wake of thee, 
Questing for my mine infancy! 
With thy glad face in the sun, 
Let thy laughter overrun 
Thy ripe lips, until mine own 
Answer, ringing, tone for tone 1 

i8i 



THE HUNTER BOY 

O my Hunter ! tilt the cup 
Of thy silver bugle up, 
And like wine pour out for me 
All its limpid melody! 
Pout thy happy lips and blare 
Music's kisses everywhere — 
Whiff o'er forest, field and town, 
Tufts of tune like thistle-down ! 
O to go, as once I could. 
Hunter Boy of Hazelwood ! 



182 



THE MAN IN THE MOON 

Said The Raggedy Man, on a hot afternoon : 

My! 

Sakes! 

What a lot o' mistakes 
Some little folks makes on The Man in the Moon! 
But people that's be'n up to see him, like me^ 
And calls on him frequent and intimuttly. 
Might drop a few facts that would interest you 
Clean! 

Through! — 

If you wanted 'em to — 
Some actual facts that might interest you ! 

O The Man in the Moon has a crick in his back ; 
Whee ! 

Whimm ! 

Ain't you sorry for him? 
And a mole on his nose that is purple and black ; 
And his eyes are so weak that they water and run 
If he dares to dream even he looks at the sun, — 

183 



THE MAN IN THE MOON 

So he jes dreams of stars, as the doctors advise — 
My! 

Eyes ! 

But isn't he wise — 
To jes dream of stars, as the doctors advise? 

And The Man in the Moon has a boil on his ear — 
Whee! 

Whing! 

What a singular thing! 
I know ! but these facts are authentic, my dear,— 
There's a boil on his ear; and a corn on his chin — 
He calls it a dimple — ^but dimples stick in — 
Yet it might be a dimple turned over, you know! 
Whang! 
Ho! 

Why, certainly so ! — 
It might be a dimple turned over, you know ! 

And The Man in the Moon has a rheumatic knee — 

Gee! 

Whizz ! 

What a pity that is ! 

And his toes have worked round where his heels 

ought to be. — 

184 



THE MAN IN THE MOON 

So whenever he wants to go North he goes Souths 
And comes back with porridge-crumbs all round 

his mouth, 
And he brushes them off with a Japanese fan, 
Whing! 

Whann! 

What a marvellous man ! 
What a very remarkably marvellous man ! 

And The Man in the Moon, sighed The Raggedy 
Man, 
Gits! 
So! 

Sullonesome, you know, — 
Up there by hisse'f sence creation began! — 
That when I call on him and then come away, 
He grabs me and holds me and begs me to stay, — 
Till — Weill if it wasn't iev Jimmy-cum-ji7n^ 
Dadd! 

Limb! 

I'd go pardners with him — 
Jes jump my job here and be pardners with 
him! 



185 



A CHILD'S HOME— LONG AGO 

Even as the gas-flames flicker to and fro, 
The Old Man's wavering fancies leap andglow,- 
As o'er the vision, like a mirage, falls 
The old log cabin with its dingy walls, 
And crippled chimney with its crutch-like prop 
Beneath a sagging shoulder at the top : 
The coonskin battened fast on either side — 
The wisps of leaf-tobacco — "cut-and-dried" ; 
The yellow strands of quartered apples, hung 
In rich festoons that tangle in among 
The morning-glory vines that clamber o'er 
The little clapboard roof above the door: 
The old well-sweep that drops a courtesy 
To every thirsting soul so graciously, 
The stranger, as he drains the dripping gourd, 
Intuitively mumurs, "Thank the Lord! " 
Again through mists of memory arise 
The simple scenes of home before the eyes: — 
i86 



A CHILD'S HOME LONG AGO 

The happy mother, humming, with her wheel, 
The dear old melodies that used to steal 
So drowsily upon the summer air. 
The house-dog hid his bone, forgot his care. 
And nestled at her feet, to dream, perchance, 
Some cooling dream of winter-time romance : 
The square of sunshine through the open door 
That notched its edge across the puncheon floor. 
And made a golden coverlet whereon 
The god of slumber had a picture drawn 
Of Babyhood, in all the loveliness 
Of dimpled cheek and limb and linsey dress : 
The bough-filled fireplace, and the mantel wide. 
Its fire-scorched ankles stretched on either side, 
Where, perched upon its shoulders 'neath the joist. 
The old clock hiccoughed, harsh and husky-voiced, 
And snarled the premonition, dire and dread. 
When it should hammer Time upon the head: 
Tomatoes, red and yellow, in a row, 
Preserved not then for diet, but for show, — 
Like rare and precious jewels in the rough 
Whose worth was not appraised at half enough : 
The jars of jelly, with their dusty tops ; 
The bunch of pennyroyal ; the cordial drops ; 
187 



A child's home LONG AGO 

The flask of camphor, and the vial of squills, 
The box of buttons, garden-seeds, and pills ; 
And, ending all the mantel's bric-a-brac, 
The old, time-honored "Family Almanack." 
And memory, with a mother's touch of love, 
Climbs with us to the dusky loft above. 
Where drowsily we trail our fingers in 
The mealy treasures of the harvest bin ; 
And, feeling with our hands the open track, 
We pat the bag of barley on the back ; 
And, groping onward through the mellow gloom, 
We catch the hidden apple's faint perfume. 
And, mingling with it, fragrant hints of pear 
And musky melon ripening somewhere. 
Again we stretch our limbs upon the bed 
Where first our simple childish prayers were said ; 
And while, without, the gallant cricket trills 
A challenge to the solemn whippoorwills, 
And, filing on the chorus with his glee. 
The katydid whets all the harmony 
To feather-edge of incoherent song, 
We drop asleep, and peacefully along 
The current of our dreams we glide away 
To the dim harbor of another day. 
1 88 



BILLY GOODIN' 

^^A big fiece 6* pie^ and a big fiece d' fuddifi^ — 
I laid it all by fer little Billy Goo din' /" 

Boy-Poet. 

Look so neat an' sweet in all yer frills an' fancy 

pleatin' ! 
Better shet yer kitchen, though, afore you go to 
Meetin' ! — 
Better hide yer mince-meat an' stewed fruit an' 

plums ! 
Better hide yer pound-cake an' bresh away the 

crumbs ! 
Better hide yer cubbord-key when Billy Goodin' 
comes, 

A-eatin' ! an' a-eatin' ! an' a-eatin' ! 



189 



BILLY GOODIN' 

Sight o' Sund'y-doin's done 'at ain't done in 

Meetin' ! 
Sun acrostyer garden-patch a-pourin' an' a-beatin' ; 
Meller apples drappin' in the weeds an' roun' 

the groun' — 
Clingstones an' sugar-pears a-ist a-plunkin' 

down! — 
Better kindo' comb the grass 'fore Billy comes 
aroun', 

A-eatin' ! an' a-eatin' ! an' a-eatin' ! 

J9tlly Goodzn' ain't a-go' to go to any Meetin' ! 
JVe 'uU watch an' ketch an' give the little sneak a 
beatin' ! — 
Better hint we want'o stay 'n' snoop yer grapes 

an' plums! 
Better eat 'em all yerse'f an' suck yer stingy 

thumbs! — 
Won't be nothin' anyhow when Billy Goodin' 
comes ! 

A-eatin' I an' a-eatin' ! an' a-eatin' I 



190 



A PASSING HAIL 

Let us rest ourselves a bit ! 
Worry? — ^wave your hand to it — 
Kiss your finger tips, and smile 
It farewell a little while. 

Weary of the weary way 
We have come from Yesterday, 
Let us fret us not, instead. 
Of the weary way ahead. 

Let us pause and catch our breath 
On the hither side of death. 
While we see the tender shoots 
Of the grasses — not the roots, — 

While we yet look down — not up^ — 
To seek out the buttercup 
And the daisy where they wave 
O'er the green home of the grave. 
191 



A PASSING HAIL 

Let us launch us smoothly on 
The soft billows of the lawn, 
And drift out across the main 
Of our childish dreams again : 

Voyage off, beneath the trees, 
O'er the field's enchanted seas, 
Where the lilies are our sails, 
And our sea-gulls, nightingales: 

Where no wilder storm shall beat 
Than the wind that waves the wheat, 
And no tempest-burst above 
The old laughs we used to love: 

Lose all troubles — gain release. 
Languor, and exceeding peace, 
Cruising idly o'er the vast, 
Calm mid-ocean of the Past. 

Let us rest ourselves a bit! 
Worry? — Wave your hand to it — 
Kiss your finger-tips, and smile 
It farewell a little while. 

192 



PRIOR TO MISS BELLE'S APPEAR- 
ANCE 

What makes you come here fer, Mister, 

So much to our house ? — Say? 
Come to see our big sister! — 
An' Charley he says 'at you kissed her 

An* he ketched you, th'uther day! — 
Didn' you, Charley? — But we p'omised Belle 

An' crossed our heart to never tell — 
'Cause she gived us some o' them-er 
Chawk'lut-drops 'at you bringed to her! 

Charley he's my little b'uther — 

An' we has a-mostest fun, 
Don't we, Charley? — Our Muther, 
Whenever we whips one-anuther, 

Tries to whip us — an' we run — 
Don't we, Charley? — An' nen, bime-by, 
Nen she gives us cake — an' pie — 
Don't she, Charley? — when we come in 
An' p'omise never to do it ag'in 1 

13 193 



PRIOR TO MISS BELLE S APPEARANCE 

He's named Charley. — I'm Willie — 

An' I'm got the purtiest name! 
But Uncle Bob he calls me "Billy"— 
Don't he, Charley?— 'N' our filly 

We named "Billy," the same 
1st like me ! An' our Ma said 
'At "Bob puts foolishnuss into our head!" — 
Didn' she, Charley? — An' she don't know 
Much about hoys I 'Cause Bob said so! 

Baby's a funniest feller! 

Nain't no hair on his head— 
Is they, Charley? — It's meller 
Wite up there ! An' ef Belle er 

Us ask wus ive that way. Ma said, — 
"Yes ; an' yer Pa's head wuz soft as that. 
An' it's that way yet!" — An' Pa grabs his hat 
An' says, "Yes, childern, she's right about Pa- 
'Cause that's the reason he married yer Mal*^ 

An' our Ma says 'at "Belle couldn' 

Ketch nothin' at all but ist '<5^w5'/"— 
An' Pa says 'at "you're soft as puddun!" — 
An' Uncle Boh says "you're a good-un — 
'Cause he can tell by yer nose!"— 
194 



PRIOR TO MISS BELLE S APPEARANCE 

Didn' he, Charley? — An' when Belle'll play 
In the poller en th' planer, some day, 
Bob makes up funny songs about you, 
Till she gits mad — like he wants her to ! 

Our sister Fanny she's Heven 

Years old! 'At's mucher 'an I- — 
Ain't it, Charley? . . . I'm seven! — 
But our sister Fanny's in heavenl 

Nere's where you go ef you die! — 
Don't you, Charley? — Nen you has wings — 
1st like Fanny I — an' purtiest things! — 
Don't you, Charley? — An' nen you csLnJly — 
X.*t fly — ?Ln* ever' thing \ . . . Wisht/'^die! 



195 



SONG— FOR NOVEMBER 

While skies glint bright with bluest light 

Through clouds that race o'er field and town, 
And leaves go dancing left and right, 

And orchard apples tumble down ; 
While school-girls sweet, in lane or street, 

Lean 'gainst the wind and feel and hear 
Its glad heart like a lover's beat, — 

So reigns the rapture of the year. 

Then hot and hey! and whoop-hooray t 
Though winter clouds be looming, 

Remember a November day 

Is merrier than mildest May 
With all her blossoms blooming. 

While birds in scattered flight are blown 

Aloft and lost in bosky mist, 
And truant boys scud home alone 

'Neath skies of gold and amethyst ; 
196 



SONG FOR NOVEMBER 

\ 

While twilight falls, and echo calls 
Across the haunted atmosphere, 

With low, sweet laughs at intervals, — 
So reigns the rapture of the year. 

Then hoi and hey! and whoop-hooray I 
Though winter clouds be looming^ 

Remember a JVov ember day 

Is merrier than mildest May 
With all her blossoms blooming. 



197 



HONEY DRIPPING FROM THE COMB 

How slight a thing may set one's fancy drifting 

Upon the dead sea of the Past! — A view — 
Sometimes an odor — or a rooster lifting 
A far-off ''Oohl ooJi-oohr' 

And suddenly we find ourselves astray 

In some wood's-pasture of the Long Ago — 
Or idly dream again upon a day 

Of rest we used to know. 

I bit an apple but a moment since — 

A wilted apple that the worm had spumed, — 
Yet hidden in the taste were happy hints 
Of good old days returned. — 

And so my heart, like some enraptured lute, 

Tinkles a tune so tender and complete, 
God's blessing must be resting on the fruit — 
So bitter, yet so sweet ! 



198 



BILLY COULD RIDE 



Billy was born for a horse's back! — 
That's what Grandfather used to say: — 
He'd seen him in dresses, a-many a day, 
On a two-year-old, in the old barn-lot, 
Prancing around, with the bridle slack, 
And his two little sunburnt legs outshot 
So straight from the saddle-seat you'd swear 
A spirit-level had plumbed him there ! 
And all the neighbors that passed the place 
Would just haul up in the road and stare 
To see the little chap's father boost 
The boy up there on his favorite roost, 
To canter off, with a laughing face. — 
Put him up there, he was satisfied — 
And O the way that Billy could ride ! 



199 



BILLY COULD RIDE 



II 



At celebration or barbecue — 

And Billy, a boy of fifteen years — 

Couldn't he cut his didoes there ? — 

What else would you expect him to, 

On his little mettlesome chestnut mare, 

With her slender neck, and her pointed ears, 

And the four little devilish hooves of hers ? 

The "delegation" moved too slow 

For the time that Billy wanted to go ! 

And to see him dashing out of the line 

At the edge of the road and down the side 

Of the long procession, all laws defied, 

And the fife and drums, was a sight divine 

To the girls, in their white-and-spangled pride, 

Wearily waving their scarfs about 

In the great "Big Wagon," all gilt without 

And jolt within, as they lumbered on 

Into the town where Billy had gone 

An hour ahead, like a knightly guide — 

O but the way that Billy could ride ! 



200 



E2LLY COULD RIDE 



III 



*'Billy can ridel Oh, Billy can ride! 

But what on earth can he do beside?" 

That's what the farmers used to say, 

As time went by a year at a stride, 

And Billy was twenty If he was a day ! 

And many a wise old father's foot 

Was put right down where it should be put, 

While many a dutiful daughter sighed 

<[n vain for one more glorious ride 

With the gallant Billy, who none the less 

Smiled at the old man's selfishness 

And kissed his daughter, and rode away, — 

Touched his horse In the flank — and zipp I — 

Talk about horses and horsemanship ! — 

Folks stared after him just wild-eyed. . . . 

Oomh I the way that Billy could ride ! 



20I 



SHE "DISPLAINS'' IT 

''Had, too!" 

'-'- Hadn't^ neither T* 
So contended Bess and May — ■ 

Neighbor children, who were boasting 
Of their grandmammas, one day. 

"Had, too!" 

"Hadn't, neither!" 
All the difference begun 

By May's saying she'd two grandmas — 
While poor Bess had only one. 

"Had, too!" 

"Hadn't, neither!" 
Tossing curls, and kinks of friz! — 

"How could you have two gran'muvvers 
When ist one is all they is?" 

"Had, too!" 

"Hadn't, neither!— 
'Cause ef you had two^^^ said Bess, 

"You'd displain it ! " Then May answered, 
^^My gran'mas wuz twins^ I guess!" 

202 



THE WAY THE BABY SLEPT 

This is the way the baby slept: 
A mist of tresses backward thrown 

By quavering sighs where kisses crept 
With yearnings she had never known : 

The little hands were closely kept 
About a lily newly blown — 

And God was with her. And we wept. 

And this is the way the baby slept. 



203 



THE JOLLY MILLER 

[^Restored Ro7naunf\ 

It was a Jolly Miller lived on the River Dee ; 
He looked upon his piller, and there he found a flea ; 
"O Mr. Flea! you have bit me, 

And you shall shorely die!" 
So he scrunched his bones ag'inst the stones — 

And there he let him lie ! 

'Twas then the Jolly Miller he laughed and told 

his w^ife, 
And she laughed fit to kill her, and dropped her 

carving-knife ! — 
"O Mr. Flea!" "Ho-ho!" '^Tee-hee!'' 

They both laughed fit to kill, 
Until the sound did almost drownd 
The rumble of the mill I 



204 



THE JOLLY MILLER 

''''Laugh on^ my Jolly Miller! and Missus Miller^ 

tool-— 
But there's a iveeping-willer will soon wave over 

your' 
The voice was all so awful small — 

So very small and slim ! — 
He durst' infer that it was her, 
Ner her infer 'twas him ! 

That night the Jolly Miller, says he, *'It's, Wifey 

dear, 
That cat o' youm, I'd kill her! — her actions is so 

queer, — 
She's rubbin' 'g'inst the grindstone-legs, 

And yowlin' at the sky — 
And I 'low the moon hain't greener 
Than the yaller of her eye!" 

And as the Jolly Miller went chuckle-un to bed, 
Was Somepin' jerked his piller from underneath 

his head! 
" O Wife," says he, on-easi-lee, 

" Fetch here that lantern there!" 
But Somepin' moans in thunder-tones, 
*' Tou tetch it efyou dareV* 
205 



THE JOLLY MILLER 

'Twas then the Jolly Miller he trimbled and he 

quailed — 
And his wife choked until her breath come back, 

'n' she wailed I 
And " O! " cried she, "it is the Flea, 

All white and pale and wann — 
He's got you in his clutches, and 
He's bigger than a man/'^ 

'-''Hoi hoi my Jolly Miller'^ {fo^ Hwas the Flea^ 

fer shore/) ^ 
'■'• I reckon you'll not rack my bones ner scrunch 

^em, any more/'* 
Then the Flea-Ghost he grabbed him clos't, 

With many a ghastly smile. 
And from the door-step stooped and hopped 
About four hundred mile ! 



206 



WITH THE CURRENT 

Rarest mood of all the year! 
Aimless, idle, and content — 
Sky and wave and atmosphere 
Wholly indolent. 

Little daughter, loose the band 

From your tresses — let them pour 
Shadow-like o'er arm and hand 
Idling at the oar. 

Low and clear, and pure and deep, 

Ripples of the river sing — 
Water-lilies, half asleep. 

Drowsed with listening: 

Tremulous reflex of skies — 

Skies above and skies below, — 
Paradise and Paradise 

Blending even so ! 
207 



WITH THE CURRENT 

Blossoms with their leaves unrolled 

Laughingly, as they were lips 
Cleft with ruddy beaten gold 
Tongues of pollen-tips. 

Rush and reed, and thorn and vine, 

Clumped with grasses lithe and tall- 
With a web of summer-shine 
Woven round it all. 

Back and forth, and to and fro — 

Flashing scale and wing as one, — 
Dragon-flies that come and go, 
Shuttled by the sun. 

Fairy lilts and lullabies, 

Fine as fantasy conceives, — 
Echoes wrought of cricket-cries 
Sifted through the leaves. 

O'er the rose, with drowsy buzz. 

Hangs the bee, and stays his kiss, 
Even as my fancy does, 
Gypsy, over this. 

208 



WITH THE CURRENT 

Let us both be children — share 

Youth's glad voyage night and day, 
Drift adown it, half aware. 
Anywhere we may. — 

Drift and curve and deviate, 

Veer and eddy, float and flow, 
Waver, swerve and undulate, 
As the bubbles go. 



14 209 



A SLEEPING BEAUTY 



An alien wind that blew and blew 

Over the fields where the ripe grain grew, 

Sending ripples of shine and shade 

That crept and crouched at her feet and played. 

The sea-like summer washed the moss 
Till the sun-drenched lilies hung like floss, 

Draping the throne of green and gold 
That lulled her there like a queen of old. 

II 

Was it the hum of a bumblebee, 
Or the long-hushed bugle eerily- 
Winding a call to the daring Prince 
Lost in the wood long ages since ? — 

2IO 



A SLEEPING BEAUTY 

A dim old wood, with a palace rare 
Hidden away in its depths somewhere ! 

Was it the Princess, tranced in sleep, 
Awaiting her lover's touch to leap 

Into the arms that bent above ? — 

To thaw his heart with the breath of love — 

And cloy his lips, through her waking tears, 
With the dead-ripe kiss of a hundred years ! 



Ill 



An alien wind that blew and blew. — 
I had blurred my eyes as the artists do, 

Coaxing life to a half-sketched face, 
Or dreaming bloom for a grassy place. 

The bee droned on in an undertone ; 
And a shadow-bird trailed all alone 

Across the wheat, while a liquid cry 
Dripped from above, as it went by. 

211 



A SLEEPING BEAUTY 

What to her was the far-off whir 

Of the quail's quick wing or the chipmunk's chirr ?- 

What to her was the shade that slid 
Over the hill where the reapers hid? — 

Or what the hunter, with one foot raised, 
As he turned to go — ^yet, pausing, gazed? 



212 



AT AUNTY'S HOUSE 

One time, when we'z at Aunty's house — 

'Way in the country ! — where 
They's ist but woods — an' pigs, an' cows — 

An' all's outdoors an' air! — 
An' orchurd-swing; an' churry-trees— 
An' churries in 'em! — Yes, an' these- 
Here redhead birds steals all they please, 

An' tetch 'em ef you dare! — 
W'y, wunst, one time, when we wuz there, 
We et out on the porch ! 

Wite where the cellar door wuz shut 

The table wuz ; an' I 
Let Aunty set by me an' cut 

My vittuls up — an' pie. 
'Tuz awful funny! — I could see 
The redheads in the churry-tree ; 
An' beehives, where you got to be 

So keerful, goin' by; — 
An' " Comp'ny" there an' all! — an' we — 
We et out on the porch I 
213 



AT aunty's house 

An' I ist et i)'surves an' things 

'At Ma don't 'low me to — 
An' chickun-gizzztrds — (don't like wings 

Like Paj'unts does! do you?') 
An' all the time the wind bio wed there, 
An' I could feel it in my hair, 
An' ist smell clover ^z'^r'where! — 

An' a' old redhead flew 
Purt' nigh wite over my high-chair, 
When we et 07z the porch ! 



214 



THE WHITHERAWAYS 

ISet Sail, October 15, 1890] 

The Whitheraways ! — That's what I'll have to call 
You — sailing off, with never a word at all 
Of parting! — sailing 'way across the sea, 
With never one good-bye to 7ne — to me ! 



Sailing away from me, with no farewell! — 
Ah, Parker Hitt and sister Muriel — 
And Rodney, too, and little Laurance — all 
Sailing away — just as the leaves, this Fall ! 

Well, then, /too shall sail on cheerily 
As now you all go sailing o'er the sea: 
I've other little friends with me on shore — 
Though they but make me yearn iox you the more ! 

And so, sometime, dear little friends afar, 
When this faint voice shall reach you, and you are 
All just a little homesick, you must be 
As brave as I am now, and think of me! 
215 



THE WHITHERAWAYS 



Or, haply, if your eyes, as mine, droop low, 
And would be humored with a tear or so, — 
Go to your Parents^ Children! — let them do 
The crying — 'twill be easier for them to! 



216 



THE RAGGEDY MAN 

O The Raggedy Man • He works fer Pa ; 
An' he's the goodest man ever you saw! 
He comes to our house every day, 
An' waters the horses, an' feeds 'em hay; 
An' he opens the shed — an' we all 1st laugh 
When he drives out our little old wobble-ly calf ; 
An' nen — ef our hired girl says he can — 
He milks the cow fer 'Lizabuth Ann. — 
Aint he a' awful good Raggedy Man? 
Raggedy ! Raggedy ! Raggedy Man ! 

W'y, The Raggedy Man — he's ist so good 
He splits the kindlin' an' chops the wood; 
An' nen he spades in our garden, too, 
An' does most things 'at boys can't do. — 
He clumbed clean up in our big tree 
An' shooked a' apple dovi^n fer me — 
An' nother'n, too, fer 'Lizabuth Ann — 
An' nother'n', too, fer The Raggedy Man. — 
Aint he a' awful kind Raggedy Man? 
Raggedy ! Raggedy ! Raggedy Man ! 
217 



THE RAGGEDY MAN 

An' The Raggedy Man, he knows most rhymes 
An' tells 'em, ef I be good, sometimes: 
Knows 'bout Giunts, an' Griffuns, an' Elves, 
An' the Squidgicum-Squees 'at swaliers ther- 

selves! ' 

An', wite by the pump in our pasture-lot, 
He showed me the hole 'at the Wunks is got, 
'At lives 'way deep in the ground, an' can 
Turn into me, er' Lizabuth Ann! 
Aint he a funny old Raggedy Man ? 

Raggedy ! Raggedy ! Raggedy Man ! 

The Raggedy Man — one time when he 
Was makin' a little bow-'n'-orry fer me. 
Says '*Whenjj/c2/'r^ big like your Pa is. 
Air you go' to keep a fine store like his — 
An' be a rich merchunt — an' wear fine clothes ? — 
Er what air you go' to be, goodness knows!" 
An' nen he laughed at 'Lizabuth Ann, 
An' I says " 'M go' to be a Raggedy Man! — 
I'm ist go' to be a nice Raggedy Man!" 
Raggedy! Raggedy! Raggedy Man! 



218 



A BOY'S MOTHER 

My Mother she's so good to me, 
Ef I was good as I could be, 
I couldn't be as good — no, sir! — 
Can't any boy be good as her! 

She loves me when I'm glad er sad ; 
She loves me when I'm good er bad; 
An', what's a funniest thing, she says 
She loves me when she punishes. 

I don't like her to punish me. — 
That don't hurt, — but it hurts to see 
Her cryin'. — Nen /cry; an' nen 
We both cry an' be good again. 

She loves me when she cuts an' sews 
My little cloak an' Sund'y clothes ; 
An' when my Pa comes home to tea, 
She loves him most as much as me. 

She laughs an' tells him all I said, 
An' grabs me up an' pats my head ; 
An' I hug her^ an' hug my Pa 
An' love him purt' nigh as much as Ma. 
2.19 



IN SWIMMING-TIME 

Clouds above, as white as wool, 

Drifting over skies as blue 
As the eyes of beautiful 

Children when they smile at you : 
Groves of maple, elm, and beech, 

With the sunshine sifted through 
Branches, mingling each with each. 

Dim with shade and bright with dew. 

Stripling trees, and poplars hoar, 
Hickory and sycamore. 
And the drowsy dogwood, bowed 
Where the ripples laugh aloud, 
And the crooning creek is stirred 

To a gaiety that now 
Mates the warble of the bird. 

Teetering on the hazel-bough. 

220 



IN SWIMMING-TIME 

Grasses long and fine and fair 

As your schoolboy-sweetheart's hair 

Backward stroked and twirled and twined 

By the fingers of the wind : 

Vines and mosses interlinked 

Down dark aisles and deep ravines, 
Where the stream runs, willow-brinked. 

Round a bend where some one leans, 
Faint, and vague, and indistinct 

As the like-reflected thing 

In the current shimmering. 

Childish voices, further on. 
Where the truant stream has gone, 
Vex the echoes of the wood 
Till no word is understood — 
Save that we are well aware 
Happiness is hiding there: — 
There, in leafy coverts, nude 

Little bodies poise and leap, 
Spattering the solitude 
And the silence, everywhere — 

Mimic monsters of the deep ! — 



231 



IN SWIMMING-TIME 

Wallowing in sandy shoals — 

Plunging headlong out of sight, 
And, with spurtings of delight, 

Clutching hands, and slippery soles, 
Climbing up the treacherous steep, 

Over which the spring-board spurns 

Each again as he returns ! 

Ah! the glorious carnival! 

Purple lips — and chattering teeth — 
Eyes that burn — But, in beneath, 

Every care beyond recall— 

Every task forgotten quite — 
And again in dreams at night, 

Dropping, drifting through it all ! 



222 



THE FISHING PARTY 

WuNST we went a-fishin' — Me 
An' my Pa an' Ma all three, 
When they was a pic-nic, 'way 
Out to Hanch's Woods, one day. 

An' they was a crick out there, 
Where the fishes is, an' where 
Little boys 'taint big an' strong, 
Better have their folks along ! 

My Pa he ist fished an' fished ! 
An' my Ma she said she wished 
Me an' her was home ; an' Pa 
Said he wished so worse' n Ma. 

Pa said ef you talk, er say 
Anything, er sneeze, er play, 
Hain't no fish, alive er dead, 
Ever go' to bite ! he said. 

223 



THE FISHING PARTY 

Purt' nigh dark in town when we 
Got back home ; an' Ma says she, 
Now she'll have a fish fer shore! 
An' she buyed one at the store. 

Nen at supper, Pa he won't 
Eat no fish, an' says he don't 
Like 'em. — An' he pounded me 
When I choked! . . . Ma, didn't he? 



224 



THE BOY LIVES ON OUR FARM 

The Boy lives on our Farm, he's not 

Afeard o' horses none! 
An' he can make 'em lope, er trot, 

Er rack, er pace, er nan. 
Sometimes he drives two horses, when 

He comes to town an' brings 
A wagon-full o' 'taters nen. 

An' roastin'-ears an' things. 

Two horses is "a team," he says, — 

An' when you drive er hitch, 
The right-un's a "near-horse," I guess, 

Er "off" — I don't know which. — 
The Boy lives on our Farm, he told 

Me, too, 'at he can see. 
By lookin' at their teeth, how old 

A horse is, to a T 1 

15 235 



THE BOY LIVES ON OUR FARM 

I'd be the gladdest boy alive 

Ef I knowed much as that, 
An' could stand up like him an' drive, 

An' ist push back my hat, 
Like he comes skallyhootin' through 

Our alley, with one arm 
A-wavin' Fare-ye-well ! to you — 

The Boy lives on our Farm ! 



226 



THE. RUNAWAY BOY 

WuNST I sassed my Pa, an' he 
Won't stand that, an' punished me, — 
Nen when he was gone that day, 
I slipped out an' runned away. 

I tooked all my copper-cents, 
An' clumbed over our back fence 
In the jimpson-weeds 'at growed 
Ever' where all down the road. 

Nen I got out there, an' nen 

I runned some — an' runned again 

When I met a man 'at led 

A big cow 'at shooked her head. 

I went down a long, long lane 
Where was little pigs a-play'n' ; 
An' a grea'-big pig went "Booh!" 
An' jumped up, an' skeered me too. 

' Nen I scampered past, an' they 
Was somebody hollered " Hey!" 
An' I ist looked ever' where, 
An' they was nobody there. 

327 



THE RUNAWAY BOY 

I want to, but I'm 'fraid to try- 
To go back. . . .An' by-an'-by, 
Somepin' hurts my throat inside — 
An' I want my Ma — an* cried. 

Nen' a grea'-big girl come through 
Where's a gate, an' tailed me who 
Am I } an' ef I tell where 
My home's at she'll show me there. 

But I couldn't ist but tell 
What's my name; an' she says well, 
An' she tooked me up an' says 
She know where I live, she guess. 

Nen she telled me hug wite close 
Round her neck ! — an' off she goes 
Skippin' up the street! An' nen 
Purty soon I'm home again. 

An' my Ma, when she kissed me, 
Kissed the big girl too, an' she 
Kissed me — ef I p'omise shore 
I won't run away no morel 

238 



OUR HIRED GIRL 

Our hired girl, she's 'Lizabuth Ann; 

An' she can cook best things to eat! 
She ist puts dough in our pie-pan, 

An' pours in somepin' 'at's good and sweet, 
An' nen she salts it all on top 
With cinnamon; an'. nen she'll stop 

An' stoop an' slide it, ist as slow, 
In th' old cook-stove, so's 'twont slop 

An' git all spilled ; nen bakes it, so 

It's custard pie, first thing you know! 
An' nen she'll say: 

* 'Clear out o' my way! 

They's time fer work, an' time fer play! — 
Take yer dough, an' run, Child ; run! 
Er I cain't git no cookin' done!" 

When our hired girl 'tends like she's mad, 
An' says folks got to walk the chalk 

When she's around, er wisht they had, 
I play out on our porch an' talk 
229 



OUR HIRED GIRL 

To th' Raggedy Man 'at mows our lawn; 
An' he says " Wheiv !^^ an' nen leans on 

His old crook-scythe, and blinks his eyes 
An' sniffs all round an' says, — "I swawn! 
Ef my old nose don't tell me lies, 
It 'pears like I smell custard-pies!" 
An' nen he'll say, — 
" 'Clear out o' my way! 
They's time fer work an' time fer play! 

Take yer dough, an' run. Child; run! 
Er she cain't git no cookin' done!' " 

Wunst our hired girl, when she 
Got the supper, an' we all et, 
An' it was night, an' Ma an' me 

An' Pa went wher' the "Social" met, — 
An' nen wdien we come home, an' see 
A light in the kitchen-door, an' we 

Heerd a maccordeun, Pa says "Lan'- 
O'-Gracious! who can her beau be?" 
An' I marched in, an' 'Lizabuth Ann 
Wuz parchin' corn fer the Raggedy Man! 

Better say 
"Clear out o' the way! 
230 



OUR HIRED GIRL 



They's time fer work, an' time fer play! 

Take the hint, an' run, Child ; run ! 
Er we cain't git no courtin' done!" 



231 



ENVOY 

Many pleasures of Youth have been buoyantly 
sung — 
And, borne on the winds of delight, may they 
beat 
With their palpitant wings at the hearts of the 
Young, 
And in bosoms of Age find as warm a retreat! — 
Yet sweetest of all of the musical throng, 

Though least of the numbers that upward aspire. 
Is the one rising now into wavering song. 
As I sit in the silence and gaze in the fire. 

'Tis a Winter long dead that beleaguers my door 

And muffles his steps in the snows of the past: 
And I see, in the embers I'm dreaming before, 

Lost faces of love as they looked on me last: — 
The round, laughing eyes of the desk-mate of old 

Gleam out for a moment with truant desire — 
Then fade and are lost in a City of Gold, 

As I sit in the silence and gaze in the fire. 



ENVOY 

And then comes the face, peering back in my own, 

Of a shy little girl, with her lids drooping low, 
As she faltering tells, in a far-away tone. 

The ghost of a story of long, long ago. — 
Then her dewy blue eyes they are lifted again; 

But I see their glad light slowly fail and expire, 
As I reach and cry to her in vain, all in vain! — 

As I sit in the silence and gaze in the fire. 

Then the face of a Mother looks back, through the 
mist 
Of the tears that are welling ; and, lucent with 

light, 

I see the dear smile of the lips I have kissed 
As she knelt by my cradle at morning and night ; 

And my arms are outheld, with a yearning too wild 
For any but God in His love to inspire, 

As she pleads at the foot of His throne for her 
child, — 
As I sit in the silence and gaze in the fire. 

O pathos of rapture ! O glorious pain ! 
My heai't is a blossom of joy overrun 



^33 



ENVOY 

With a shower of tears, as a lily with rain 

That weeps in the shadow and laughs in the 
sun. 

The blight of the frost may descend on the tree, 
And the leaf and the flower may fall and expire, 

But ever and ever love blossoms for me, 
As I sit in the silence and gaze in the fire. 



«34 



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